


Never Been to Spain

by DJH1950



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-25 08:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10760649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJH1950/pseuds/DJH1950
Summary: What would have happened if Shaw had agreed to go to Spain with Tomas? Total AU, angst, with a possible hopeful/optimistic end. Title shamelessly stolen from Three Dog Night. Comments would be greatly appreciated, they also will fuel my desire to continue to update.





	1. Leaving on a Jet Plane

**Author's Note:**

> So I can't seem to stop with these two (Root and Shaw). This will be dark (warning- violence, torture, death) but I think it will sort itself out at the end. I'm going to try to put pressure on myself by posting this before I have the whole thing fleshed out. If I get bogged down and am slow to update, please forgive me. Of course comments will help me keep going. ;)

“Here are the vials, Finch. They’re your problem now.”

“Ms. Shaw, I think you can take these to one of the safe houses and decontaminate the entire lot. Here’s detailed instructions on how to proceed.”

“No, Finch, under the circumstances, I’m done.”

“Done, Ms. Shaw? I don’t understand.”

“You’ve got me working a makeup counter, then driving getaway cars for petty thieves- all because Samaritan has our entire group on the run. I’ll be less danger to you in Europe. Plus, I can do something that will keep me from going insane, which I’ll do if I have to hide like a scared kid for any longer.

“Tomas made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Finch sat quietly searching for words that would stop the inevitable. Surprised she had stayed this long, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He looked up and played one last desperate card.

“You know how this is going to affect Ms. Groves, don’t you?”

Shaw’s countenance faltered, a sadness briefly invading her eyes. She forced it back, regaining her emotionless affect.

“Tell her…. tell her, she’s hot but the two of us would be like a four-alarm fire in an oil refinery. Tell her it was never going to happen. Tell her… hell, Finch I don’t care what you tell her- remember I’m a sociopath. I don’t do feelings.

“Root’s better off without me.”

….

 

“Ms. Groves, could you please come to the subway? We have a project for you.”

“Be right there, Harry.”

Finch stared at the vials, thoughts of Shaw’s departure interfering with the immediate problem of decontamination of the vials Shaw and Mr. Korora had secured before they could be released on an unsuspecting city. Finch deliberately didn’t ask the Machine for a casualty estimation, initially because he didn’t want to place any undue pressure on the team retrieving it and finally because it didn’t matter once the threat was eliminated.

His current objective was to get Root to render said virus benign and to do so any mention of Shaw’s plans had to be avoided at all cost. He looked into the blinking light at the top of his laptop.

“Ms. Groves must not know what Ms. Shaw is planning. Any distractions could have disastrous results if she finds out before decontaminating the vials.

On the screen, the answer appeared.

_I understand._

The screen went blank as Finch heard the clicking of heels on the tile floor of the subway station. With an extreme effort of will, he forced his face to become expressionless as he turned to greet Root.

“Ms. Groves. Ms. Shaw and Mr. Korora had to leave for another mission. The vials they secured require decontamination. I have placed detailed instructions with the vials in this case. I need you to take them to the safe house on 23rd, follow the instructions to the letter and place the vials, case and instructions in the incinerator in the basement of the safe house.

“Once you’re done, you are free to work any other projects the Machine currently has for you.”

Frowning, Root looked at Finch suspiciously.

“What’s up, Harry? No warnings, no advice, no recriminations? Where’s the mother hen?”

“I’m tired, Ms. Groves- and there’s been a lot happening lately what with trying to deal with the numbers _and_ hiding from Samaritan. We’ll talk next time I see you- for now, please try to render this virus harmless without causing any other trouble.”

“That’s more like it Harry.” Root smiled and headed toward the stairs, case in hand. Midway from the subway to the stairs, she turned back briefly.

“Tell Sam I missed her and I’ll see her later.”

Thankful his back was to Root, Finch answered.

“When I see her, Ms. Groves.”

….

Rendering the virus harmless was an arduous process. Root worked feverishly into the early afternoon then, finally, crashed in the safe houses bedroom. Sleep was elusive as she played her conversation with Finch over in her mind. Something was gnawing at her subconscious but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Then the light went on.

_Why would Shaw take a number with her on another mission? What’s going on with her and Tomas?_

She had tried unsuccessfully to tamp down the jealousy she felt for the darkly handsome thief during the time he was paired with Shaw. Playful banter over the comm while he sat flirting with Shaw in the bar covered up her real fears and insecurities over the pairs mutual attraction. When Shaw abruptly cut the comm Root was shocked and initially infuriated.

In reality, Root was scared, scared that Shaw would run to someone like Tomas to escape from her feelings…. her feelings for Root.

Root knew Shaw felt something… knew there was something between them. She also knew Shaw didn’t want to admit nor deal with those feelings. Root feared Shaw might turn to someone like Tomas as an escape from what was happening between the two of them.

Her laptop lay on the nightstand next to the bed. She picked it up, looked into it’s camera and asked the question she didn’t know if she wanted answered.

“Where is Shaw?”

There was no immediate answer. Frowning, Root repeated her request- this time entering it on the keyboard.

_Where is Shaw?_

The cursor blinked several times, then paused. Root began to feel concern for Sam’s safety. Then after several seconds-

 _41.3683 N 2.1903 E_  

Root stared in confusion for a few seconds, then copied the coordinates into Google Maps. Within seconds a picture appeared on the screen- the Hotel W Barcelona. Root sat frozen for several minutes, mind racing. Then she typed another question.

_Is she with Tomas?_

_Affirmative._

_Did you or Finch send her there?_

_Negative._

Nausea washed over Root as the implications of what she had just been told hit her. Racing from the bed to the bathroom, she threw up the apple she had eaten less than an hour earlier. She washed her face, then returned to the bed to pick up the laptop and take it with her into the kitchen.

At the breakfast bar she sat silently for an interminable length of time. Tears streamed down her cheeks unnoticed as she tried to process the last few days. She knew the attraction was there, she accepted the fact that Tomas was hot… but she never allowed herself to consider that he might be enough to take her away from, from….

_She was never yours- you knew it even though you tried to ignore the fact._

As understanding was followed by despair, then rage, Root threw the laptop across the kitchen. Without looking to see what damage was done, she walked to the door and left the safe house determined to get lost in the New York afternoon. As she walked the streets surrounded by teeming masses, she had never felt so alone.

Hours later, as darkness replaced the late afternoon shadows, Root wandered into a bar- her attention drawn to it only because it looked old enough to be without security cameras. Her eyes traveled the interior until she was satisfied the Machine (and Samaritan) couldn’t see her. She sat down and ordered tequila, a lime and salt. When the bartender poured the bottle and turned, she stopped him with her right hand.

“Leave the bottle.”

….

 

Several thousand miles away, Shaw stood naked looking out the window of the one bedroom suite twenty one floors above the Mediterranean. The eastern sky was just tinging red, the promise of a spectacular day teasing the darkness away. Her thoughts conflicted with the pleasant ache that reminded her of the night before.

As she reflected on the last several hours’ activities, a small pang of guilt threatened to overwhelm the reminders of the physical pleasure from their first evening in Spain.

_Damn you Root. Can’t you just leave me alone?_

She stood there for seconds? minutes? hours? Her reverie was finally interrupted by a voice from the bed. Obscured by the shadows of the evaporating darkness, she looked over her shoulder at the figure.

“Shaw, come back to bed.”

She dismissed her thoughts and turned back to Tomas.

….

Root hung suspended from a metal pipe that bisected the dimly lit room. Hands cuffed together, she was clothed only in her underwear which were stained red from the blood coursing down her back. Her bra hung in tatters from the lashes which just kept coming. Each crack brought a moan from her lips, muffled by the gag that kept her agony from reaching outside the walls of the dungeon that ran under the abandoned storefront she’d been taken to.

As the bullwhip whistled through the air and opened a fresh gash in her back, Root’s head snapped back and her eyes rolled up into their sockets, almost disappearing. Only a sliver of brown denoted the beginnings of the irises as her agony caused her to momentarily black out. The pungent odor of spilled blood filled the room as the syrupy substance pooled around her feet.

She dangled unconscious as pain and lack of blood rendered her incapable of feeling any more of the torture she had endured for the past 45 minutes. As she hung limply, the cuffs cutting into her wrists now that she could no longer hold herself up, one hooded figure put down the whip and walked around the unconscious female’s form facing her dead on. He reached out and slapped her not once, not twice but three times, savagely spinning her back and forth.

When there was no sign of stirring, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small keyring. Reaching up, the figure unlocked the cuffs as his partner deftly caught Root’s body before it collapsed into the pool of blood that sat congealing on the concrete floor. The first joined his partner and they half dragged, half carried the unconscious woman to a cot set against a wall that had an air mattress on it.

Lifting Root to the cot, they laid her almost gently on her stomach, leaving the lash marks crossing her back to air. The two removed their hoods revealing a man and a woman in their early 30’s. Their good looks contrasted sharply with the bloody mess that lay on the cot in front of them. The man nodded at Root’s unconscious figure.

“Keep an eye on her. If she regains consciousness before I come back call me. I’ll be back to spell you in three hours. After my shift, if she’s still out we’ll wake her. If she does come to and wants medical attention- she pays for it.

“$2500 only gets our services, medical care is extra. I don’t know what kind of fucked up insanity went on in her head but she got what she paid for and I hope she got her money’s worth. She may be marked- she will be in a world of hurt for days if not a week. I’ve never seen a look like that in a woman’s eyes before- it was like she needed to be in agony to escape something causing worse agony.

“Anyway you look at it, this was, and is trouble. I’ll be seeing this shit in my dreams for weeks.”

….

Four days had passed since they arrived in Barcelona. Shaw’s skin was the hue of caramel from hours on the beach each day. Tomas glowed as well, both from the sun and the activities of each evening. The two lay on lounge chairs only eighteen inches apart, sipping their drinks and watching the people stroll past in various stages of undress.

The beaches around the area were clothing optional- technically illegal but never enforced. The area was a tourist magnet for the rich- especially the young rich living off their parents’ wealth. They made easy marks for both grifters and thieves- their naiveté making them easy, their pride making them less likely to go to the authorities.

As Tomas and Shaw recruited their soldiers, they could feed off the easy pickings these jet-setters provided and build operating capital for their eventual operation. Tomas leaned over and stroked Shaw’s stomach, revealing briefly some of the marks he’d made during their evening activities. Shaw frowned and pulled her sundress tighter around her. She looked at Tomas with raised eyebrows.

“Watch it.”

Tomas smiled at his companion.

“Tomorrow our mini-vacation ends and we start our work. I’ve got a couple of targets already picked out for fleecing.”

“Jon and Marco? They have been drooling all over me every time we see them. I suspect their rich wives will be pissed if they get caught _in flagrante_ \- especially in their hotel room. Gigolos need to realize they are bloodsuckers, and if the blood dries up they’re dead. We get them on video and they will give up the keys to the castle.

“With their cooperation, we can access the accounts of their wives companies, skim off a half million Euros- and let them explain it to their spouses as a horrible run of luck at the tables.”

Tomas smirked and raised his glass in a mock toast.

“To a successful partnership.”

Shaw nodded and drank, but the taste in her mouth was sour.

_Root… damn! Get out of my head._

….

The sounds of New York at night were unlike any city in the world. Sinatra captured it “ _the city that never sleeps_ ”. The tall woman walked among the masses that filled the sidewalks despite the early hour- or late hour, depending on your point of view. 5:00AM was the time when it was quietest, but still the streets teemed with activity belying the lateness (or earliness) of the hour.

As she approached the subway Root suddenly veered off the curb and into the street, raising her arm defiantly at the cab bearing down on her. As the driver stomped angrily on his brakes and laid angrily on his horn, she smiled and walked to the driver’s side, pulling five crisp $100 bills out of her coat pocket.

“There’s another $500 if you get me to Atlantic City by 9:00AM. Can you do it?”

The driver looked at his watch, took a deep breath and nodded. Root handed him the bills and hopped in back.

“Let’s go.”

Three and a half hours later, the cab pulled up to the Tropicana and dropped a blonde woman in a knee length blue dress. Black heels matched the purse she slung over her shoulder as she walked into the main entrance, approached the front desk and smiled at the young attendant.

“Gillian Davis to see Mr. Morino. He’s expecting me.”

The clerk looked at his computer then pressed a button. He spoke softly into his headset, nodded and looked at Root.

“Penthouse Suite- 50th floor. Private elevator is over there.” He handed Root a card. Smiling, she turned away from the desk, the promise of her long legs revealed slightly as the slit in her skirt parted. She walked over to the private elevator, inserted the card and stepped inside.

As the elevator climbed toward the Penthouse, Root casually opened her purse and glanced inside. Smiling she closed the bag and stood calmly waiting for the climb to end. As the ascent slowed and she heard a soft chime, the doors opened to reveal two men in suits blocking the exit.

“Your purse ma’am.” One of the men extended his hand. Root, rolling her eyes, extended the purse. The man opened it, looked up at her and removed the .38 revolver from the bag.

“Not in here, you’ll get it back when you leave.” He handed the bag back to Root, who smirked as she passed the two and headed into the reception area.

Hector Morino was a billionaire- one of the richest people on the Eastern Seaboard. He was also one of the driving forces behind Samaritan- and if Root could pull this off, the Machine would have a significant leg up in its battle to keep the AI from destroying both the team and the Machine itself. He was standing at the window enjoying the view and turned as Root approached.

“Ms. Davis, do you have the hard drive?”

“Mr. Morino, I told you I wouldn’t meet with you until I had it in my possession. Do you have the amount we agreed on?”

Morino tilted his head, indicating a briefcase sitting on the coffee table.

“Would you like to count it?”

Smiling only with her lips, Root nodded. She approached the leather case and pressed the latches. As she raised the lid, she spun the case around so it was facing Morino. His face registered surprise, then anger and finally panic as the canister inside the briefcase exploded, releasing a toxic gas directly at him.

Morino threw himself back but enough of the gas was inhaled as he gasped in surprise at Root’s turning the tables on him. She jumped back simultaneously reaching between her legs for the two Nano’s strapped to her inner thighs. She put four bullets in the bodyguards two each center mass and two each in forehead.

Spinning back to Morino she smiled.

“Fell for the decoy- I figured you cocky bastards wouldn’t believe I could outsmart you. Now you and I are going to have a talk.”

Root reached for the back of her neck, under her hair and pulled out her taser.

“You’re going to tell me the access codes and I’ll let you live. The codes you, Greer and the others use to access Samaritan’s core code. If you don’t… you and this taser are going to become very close friends.”

“You can torture me all you want, I’ll tell you nothing.”

“Torturing you isn’t my thing…I guess I’d better show you.”

The smell of burning flesh was almost immediate after the sizzling sound of the taser as it released thousands of volts into Morino’s neck. He hit the ground hard barely missing the coffee table on the way down. Root grabbed a chair from the dinette and, after stripping Morino, zip tied his arms to the wooden chair back and his legs to the rear legs of the chair.

“If I were to torture you, I’d start by shocking you here.”

Root held the taser between Morino’s legs and sent a brief jolt to his testicles. With the zip ties rendering him immobile, the billionaire could only open his mouth to scream. Root immediately shoved a rolled up washcloth into his mouth and wrapped duct tape around his head to keep it in place.

She smiled at him as her eyes danced insanely.

“Ohhh, looks like you wet yourself. I wonder how you’re going to do when I use this on your eyeballs.”

Morino’s eyes almost bugged out of his head as he shook his head desperately trying to get the woman to stop. Root tilted her head and smirked.

“Do you have something you’d like to tell me?”

The few seconds were enough for Morino to regain some measure of control. His eyes changed from terrified to determined as he shook his head in the negative.

“Too bad.”

The taser buzzed as Root held it against Morino’s left eye, the smell of burning flesh filling the room. It had happened so fast the man was taken by surprise and he didn’t react for a couple of seconds. When the pain hit, he threw himself away from her, tipping the chair as he spilled to the floor. Root struggled but managed to right the chair, then grabbed a glass of water, which she splashed in his face.

“Wake up sunshine, we’re not done yet. You have another eye…. and several other fun parts to explore.”

Morino gradually regained consciousness, the left side of his face resembling a figure from a horror movie. Root waited until he seemed lucid.

“You still have one eye, and while painful, your face can still be fixed. If we go any further, I’m afraid you’ll be injured beyond repair. I won’t kill you though, I’ll just leave you to sit until you’re found by housekeeping. They’ll call 911, you’ll survive but you’ll not only be blind, you’ll be disfigured beyond the repair of any plastic surgeon.

“On the other hand, you could walk out of here in a few hours with only an eyepatch and the memory of the small amount of pain you’ve endured and go back to your rich, pampered life. I understand some consider an eyepatch sexy.

“It’s totally up to you.”

Morino’s head fell to his chest as he nodded. Root removed the duct tape and washcloth from the billionaire’s face and sat down on the couch. She pulled out a tablet and powered it up. Seconds later she looked over.

“Codes?”

Morino repeated a string of numbers and characters, then a second set which Root entered into the tablet. She then tapped on her comm.

“Got it Harry?”

“Yes Ms. Groves, but how did you come about having this in your possession?”

“Don’t ask, don’t tell Harry. Just tell me if it worked.”

“This may take a few minutes.”

“I have all day.”

Morino looked at Root, hatred shining from his eyes.

“When I get free, I will kill you with my bare hands. Then I’ll go after your ‘team’ and torture and kill them one by one. I’ll save Sameen Shaw for last- and tell her as she’s dying that you’re the one she can blame.”

Root’s eyes changed minutely as the smile left her face. She stood, pulled one of the Nano’s back out and shot Morino just below the belly button, then put a second bullet in his groin.

“You said the wrong thing Hector, now you have to die. I wanted it to be slow and painful so I stayed below the neck. This should take an hour or so but I don’t want you warning anyone… so….”

Root reinserted the wash cloth and secured it. As she entered the elevator she tapped once more on the comm.

“Sorry Harry, but Hector’s done talking to us. I hope you’ve got all you need.”

“What have you done, Ms. Groves?”

“Don’t worry your innocent little head about it. As long as you can get into Samaritan, my value to the team is finished- this is goodbye Harry.”

And she cut the comm.


	2. You Can Run but You Can't Hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is shorter than I anticipated, but I wanted to advance the part of the story I was certain of. There's still fog ahead of me and I'm not totally sure how to get where I want, but your comments help me- they really do. Thanks for reading and commenting- it fuels me.

Six months had passed since the Machine brought down Samaritan. Finch and Reese continued to work the numbers building a new team from assets and acquaintances. Currently Zoe Morgan, Harper Rose and Joey Durban were watching a hedge fund manager trying to determine if he was victim or perpetrator. Reese was in Colorado trying to recruit a former number, Dr. Megan Tillman for a project the Machine had determined would benefit the team long term.

The chaos immediately following Root's disappearance nearly fractured what was left of the team and almost caused the failure of their attack on Samaritan. Finch insisted an immediate attack was optimal before Samaritan's minions could react to Root's acquiring the access codes. Reese insisted finding the hacker was first priority.

Finch prevailed when he finally told Reese how their last conversation ended.

"I don't know where she is or what she's planning Mr. Reese, but she made it clear she was done. I think losing Ms. Shaw hurt her beyond our ability to comprehend. It sent her reeling and quite possibly caused her to lose the anchor that changed her from amoral killer to the caring teammate she grew into."

Reese disagreed vehemently but finally threw up his hands and walked out of the subway.

"I just wonder who you'll toss over next Finch... oh! I guess that would probably be me. At this point who really gives a damn anyway?"

Finch shook his head sadly but continued working for the next 36 hours nonstop. When the virus was ready he used the codes Root provided for the _first_ time. This was such a "Hail Mary" there was no debugging, no test run, no simulation. The risk of exposure so great even Reese was in the dark as to the particulars.

Finch had named the worm "Pair-asite". It was a Trojan horse with dual functionality- first to slip past Samaritan's formidable defenses and lurk inside its servers. Once inside it released just enough code to alert Samaritan that something was amiss. As Samaritan's defense mechanism kicked in, the second part of the worm activated.

Samaritan ran diagnostics designed specifically to expose an unauthorized intrusion _running_ within any of its myriad of servers around the world. Since Pair-asite was specifically designed to not activate until certain parameters had been established, it passed undetected.

Next was a brilliant piece of code written by Finch after brainstorming with Root several weeks before the access codes were acquired. Simply put, it mirrored the diagnostic code's last command which sent it to the next server to be examined. If detected it appeared to simply be an echo when in reality it allowed Pair-asite to piggyback the diagnostic to the next server. It also left a sleeper program behind.

It was a virtual trail of "breadcrumbs" allowing Pair-asite to take residence in every server Samaritan had ever accessed. Within 18 hours it "slept" inside 218,868 servers world-wide. As the diagnostic procedure ended, the countdown began.

Ninety minutes after diagnostics ceased, Pair-asite activated releasing its destruction on each server it resided within. At nearly the speed of light the program ignited throughout the world, running in all 218,868 servers within minutes. By the time analysts figured out there might be a problem, the damage was done.

Pair-asite traveled throughout each server almost _Pacman-like_ devouring Samaritan's brain cells by the trillions. It left behind gibberish which, if analysts attempted to repair unleashed permanent damage to the servers. It was quite possibly the most elegant and destructive worm ever written.

Once the damage was done to the AI, Reese and a few selected soldiers attacked the creative forces behind Samaritan. John Greer and Claire Mahoney were the last to die- tracked to a seedy motel in suburban Annapolis. Reese crashed through their door, catching the two at the room’s desk, backs turned staring at a laptop.

The code lines that flashed across the screen had so consumed them it took seconds before they realized the door had been breached. Greer turned, a feral grimace on his face as he raised his gun. Reese put two in his head before the gun was above his waist and the evil genius behind Samaritan sank quietly to the floor.

Claire turned to face Reese, fear written across her face. She fell from the chair, hands going up and behind her head as she screamed out in terror.

“Please don’t hurt me, they forced me.”

Reese’s eyes flickered toward Greer, laying feet away. Claire, seizing her opportunity reached down under her sweater for the gun she had secreted there when the two first went on the run. As the Sig cleared her sweater it flew from her hands as the first shot shattered her wrist. Shaking his head, he approached the young woman who’s face went from fearful to hateful.

“Sorry Claire, but you’ve betrayed this team one too many times.”

His gun barked and the last of Samaritan’s creators fell to the floor.

Reese tapped his comm.

“They’re both dead Finch, Claire pulled a gun before I could even talk to her.”

“I expected as much, Mr. Reese, but hoped she could still be rehabilitated.”

“I’ll be back in New York tonight.”

….

The following months saw Finch move operations back above ground, this time taking up residence in a sprawling apartment complex that he had bought piece by piece until he could renovate the entire structure. The four story 100,000 square foot building was gutted and renovated to provide a command center where the Machine could be reconstructed and a new team built Phoenix-like from the old one’s ashes.

Pair-asite had destroyed not only Samaritan, but much of the Machine’s core processes. In the hours leading up to its’ unleashing, Finch had compressed as much of the Machine’s DNA as he believed necessary to rebuild it. Knowing how destructive the worm would be to any AI type programs in existence, there was undoubtedly going to be collateral damage to the Machine.

Dozens of gaming consoles were placed in the subway in a large Faraday cage to protect the essence of the Machine. Once Pari-asite activated the core would be protected from any damage the worm would do. Once Samaritan was destroyed, the Machine could rebuild itself from the essence held in the consoles. Transfer was going on during the days leading up to Root’s acquiring the codes and finished hours before Finch activated the worm.

The reboot was not without issues- several failures had to be analyzed and tweaked before finally the Machine “awakened”. Finch’s joy at the return of the Machine was tempered by sadness at the cost, and the loss of so much of the original team.

….

Several thousand miles away, in a luxury hotel in downtown Rome, Sameen Shaw climbed out of the private hot tub and looked over the city. The Prestige Suite at the Rome Cavalieri Hotel had a magnificent view of the city. Shaw reflected on the last few months and wondered if this was ever going to bring her the peace she sought when she ran from New York.

_From Root, admit it, you ran from Root. You’ve been here almost half a year and the ache in your chest is just as strong, just as fresh as the night you got on the plane for Barcelona. How long are you going to chase serenity Shaw? How long do you think you can go on fooling yourself?_

_You left New York not because of Samaritan, not because of Tomas, not for the excitement and adventure of his promises- no you left to get away from Root, and your feelings for her. Feelings, Shaw, feelings. You’ve been living a lie, Axis 2 Personality disorder, sociopath…. it’s all Bullshit, Shaw._

_Gen was right when she told you you had feelings and the volume was just turned down. Then you met Root and it was like someone grabbed the volume control and cranked it to MAX, then broke off the knob. You prided yourself on your objectivity and then you met someone who challenged your world-view and objectivity blew out the window in the wake of Hurricane Root._

_So what now, Shaw? Do you continue to run, hide and feel like shit? Or do you try to find her, bare your soul to her, and seek to win her back? Can you win her back? Did you really even have her in the first place for there to be a “back”?_

For the first time in months, Shaw thought of the burner phone- the one she threw into her suitcase moments before heading down to the taxi waiting to take her and Tomas to JFK for the flight to Barcelona. She threw on her robe and walked inside, pulled her suitcase from the closet and opened it. The inside zipper compartment held three objects- the burner, it’s battery and the sim card, separated to ensure no one could trace her and it.

Shaw sat staring at the three objects for several minutes. Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Tomas entered, smiled at her and leaned down to kiss her softly. Shaw tilted her head at him, smiling distantly.

“Shaw, you're a million miles away. What’s going on?”

“I’m going back to the States- this isn’t working.”

Korora frowned at her, confused.

“Isn’t working? In the last four months we’ve acquired almost €7.5 million in jewelry, bearer bonds and cash. I’d say it’s working perfectly.”

Shaw looked forlornly at her partner.

“If it was working perfectly, I wouldn’t be miserable. And to be honest, I’ve been miserable for longer than either of us want to admit.”

Tomas stared at her in silence. Finally, sadness in his eyes, he spoke.

“It’s her, isn’t it? Root? I’ve known since we got here that part of you stayed behind, but I kept hoping I could make it so you could forget about her and be content with me. I guess I knew deep down it wasn’t working, but hoped if I just kept trying, something would work.

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

Shaw looked into his eyes, a gentle humor mixing with the sadness in her expression.

“If only I could feel about her the way I feel about you. With you, I’m OK with the volume turned down on my feelings. With you, I can have fun without commitment or consequences. With you I can be who I always thought I was, the sociopath with mad skills.

“With you I can deal with the fact that you say you’re in love with me and have it mean little more than you saying ‘I ate too much’ or ‘I have a headache, I have to go lay down’. With you, feelings are the way they’ve always been. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but you knew about me going in.

“Unfortunately for me, I can’t escape the specter of Root, no matter how far I run nor how hard I try. I have to go back and at least try to deal with this or eventually I’m going to go crazy. How long can you have someone you haven’t seen in months dominate your every waking moment? How long before the ache in your chest fades and allows you to go back to your normal?

“I have to go.”

Tomas surrendered, but still played his last card.

“You don’t know if it’s safe back there. That computer thing is probably still trying to kill you. What if you go back and they kill you? What if you go back and they’ve killed her?”

“I will know then, and I will deal with it some way. I don’t know, but I need to try to find her and see if there’s something in this world that can fix the hole in me. I know who can do it, what I don’t know is if I can find her, and, if I do find her if there’s a future. If either of us die I think I can accept that, as long as before it happens, I get a chance to apologize and tell her how I feel.”

Tomas smiled sadly.

“I’ll take you to the airport.”


	3. Beyond the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root says goodbye to an old friend, meets a new friend and goes on an adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a difficult chapter to write, both for its setting, and for the possibility of a relationship, any type of relationship that Root could have with anyone else (much less.... well read it). This chapter shows a side of Root I believe was always possible, but never revealed- but I admit I'm so head over heels with her I believe she has superpowers (oh, that's another show, sorry ;)) and can do anything. As always, your comments keep me wanting to push on with this but there's still a lot of storm ahead. At least I think so.

_Ian told me this would take my breath away… but I’ve never seen anything like this._

Root broke the surface of the water off Airlie Beach and gazed off toward the northeast. _Only 5000 miles to Hawaii- wonder if I could swim it?_

Her smile widened as she thought of how much had changed in the months since… well since she left her old life behind. Contract killer and professional hacker to part of a team that brought down one of the greatest threats to humanity… well…. ever. Killing Samaritan should have been the crowning achievement of her life but she was unable to take any pleasure in the accomplishment.

_It’s getting easier each day…. someday I may be able to go a whole day without crying when I think about her. At least I don’t pay to have faceless people torture me anymore. That’s progress right?_

Snorkeling off the Great Barrier Reef was the final stop on what Root considered her “Walkabout”. The term originated with the indigenous population of Australia as a passage to manhood for Aboriginal boys. It had morphed into a descriptor used at times to describe a journey of varying purpose.

In Root’s case, her walkabout was a result of a chance meeting in Bishop, Texas of all places.

As Samaritan was falling, Root set out on several missions to eliminate some of the AI’s top echelon, the ones who operated under the radar. Many in the US Government were working to undermine the freedoms and protections guaranteed by the Constitution by unleashing Samaritan on the world.

Root knew of them due to her intimate relationship with the Machine. As the Pair-asite worm was unleashed against Samaritan, Root began a series of attacks on the insiders within the government who stayed hidden from most, but not all eyes.

Two cabinet members had fatal heart attacks. A Supreme Court justice was killed in a freak hunting accident. Several congressional leaders died when a plane crashed over Nevada. Root’s last two targets were members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff who’s car had mechanical trouble when the steering failed on their vehicle as it was crossing the Chesapeake Bay Bridge late one Wednesday evening.

Four bodies were pulled from the wreckage- the Chiefs, their driver and a tall brunette aide named Kelly Dyson from Milwaukee, WI. Her cremated remains were shipped home and interred in a suburban cemetery. Root said goodbye to her old life, assuming correctly that eventually the Machine would inform Harold and John of Ms. Dyson’s passing, and they would assume Root had died fulfilling her final mission.

Once her “death” was established, Root traveled to Bishop to pay her respects to Hannah. Her intent was to get in and get out without anyone noticing, but her rental car decided the hot Texas sun was more than it could handle that particular day. She arrived at the cemetery intending to say goodbye forever to her first love, then head into the unknown in a desperate attempt to say goodbye to her second and last love.

Leaving the gravesite, she got less than a mile before a light flashed on accompanied by a persistent chiming from the dashboard. Exasperated, Root pulled to the side as her rental coasted over to the shoulder. She pulled one of her last burner phones and called the number listed at the top of the contract.

The agent on the other end said assistance would be arriving in forty-five minutes. Root had passed the West Wing Grill on her way to the cemetery and decided to head there in the hopes of finding an edible salad to pass the time.

She entered the restaurant and was disappointed that no salads were on the menu. The twenty something lady at the counter told her their wings were the best in the area.

“What the hell, I’ll try them.”

Wondering how things could get any worse she grabbed the basket and headed to a booth in the rear.

_Stuck in this shit hole with a broken down rental, all I need now is for someone to recognize me and I’ll have to go through all kinds of reminiscing- ugh._

“Do you mind?”

Startled out of her reverie, Root looked up- about to snarl at whoever had approached her. She was stopped cold by the bizarre appearance of the man standing at her side. He looked like Crocodile Dundee, or at least what she assumed he’d look like in his late 50’s or early 60’s dressed in jeans, vest over flannel with a Bush hat in his hand.

His weathered face and bright blue eyes looked down at Root kindly. She saw no threat and was amused and intrigued by his accent.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said, do you mind. It’s not often I see a gorgeous Sheila sitting by herself. I was just wondering what brought you to Woop Woop.”

“What? You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Brisbane’s my hometown, down-under. I didn’t mean to startle you or intrude but I haven’t seen many around town, and if you’ll excuse my being cheeky, none as good a looker as yourself.”

Root laughed, disarmed by the man’s clumsy charm and friendly face. She held out her hand.

“Caroline Turing.”

“Ian Toliver. Pleasure.”

“Sit, Ian, but if you’re trying to pick me up, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

“Your invitation has made my day Ms. Turing, so no matter what, I won’t be ‘disappointed’.”

The two bantered back and forth as Root tried to get the measure of this stranger who didn’t appear to be a threat but needed to be held at arm’s length while she figured him out. Hacking people was one of her strongest weapons and it had saved her more than once in dangerous situations. Her distrust of people in general had kept her alive in many situations and while she was trying to leave her old life behind, this was one skill she wanted to keep.

Toliver seemed harmless, though and the more they talked the more at ease she became.

“So what brings you to Bishop, Ian? It sure isn’t for the night life.”

Smiling, Toliver paused before answering.

“Have you heard of ‘Walkabout’?”

“Isn’t that the rite of passage Aboriginal teen’s go on to become men?”

“Well yes, but it’s also used to describe a type of wandering that can be mind clearing and good for the soul. It’s how I ended up here. Have you heard of the King Ranch?”

Root laughed. _Growing up in Bishop I spent hundreds of hours sneaking around it._

“I certainly have. What has that got to do with you? And Walkabouts?”

“Australians love American Westerns and the history of the Old West. Once the King Ranch was considered a must see for any Aussies visiting Texas- ranked right behind the Alamo. I’ve lived in the States for years now and never saw either until the last week and a half.

“I met and married a girl from Philadelphia twenty-three years ago. We met in Kuwait of all places, I was part of the Australian contingent attached to US forces. We saw very little action but once the war ended we were sent to Ramstein in Germany for processing.

“She was, and still is, the most gorgeous woman I ever saw- no offense Ms. Turing. Why she looked a second time at me is one of the great mysteries of the universe. Anyway, I chased her back to Philly, managed to get her to agree to marry me, and we lived all over the world- wherever my work took me. When she got sick, several years ago, we came back to her home near the East Coast until she died, three months ago.

“I decided to head back down-under, but first I wanted to go Walkabout in the states. We had visited many places in this country but I’d never been to Texas. I’m flying out of Houston in five days. Last Friday I was in San Antonio and spent the entire day at the Alamo. I worked my way east and today I decided to walk from Corpus to the Ranch.

“The day got much hotter than I expected, so I thought I’d stop here and reconsider my plans. I’d still like to see the ranch but I don’t think I’ll walk there. So I was thinking I’d call the car rental place that ‘picks you up’ and get myself a ride there.

“And by the way, I wasn’t ever trying to pick you up. Number one, I’m still in mourning and, number two, I saw you checking Tricia out with a look that tells me you’d fancy her way more than myself. Sorry, but I’ve always said what’s on my mind.”

Root looked across the table and smiled brilliantly.

“I have too, Ian. And I have an idea, if you’re interested. My rental broke down a short distance from here. They’re delivering a new one to me and I would be happy to drive you to Kingsville and the Ranch. Hell, I’ll even give you the unofficial tour.”

And that’s how it started. Tour of King Ranch, dinner in Corpus and several hours at a small piano bar near the city. Root found herself enjoying human company in a way she never thought she could after Samaritan destroyed her only chance at… at… well a somewhat normal life. She was attracted to Ian in the way she would have been to a brother, if she’d had one.

Ian was still grieving the loss of his wife, and was sensitive to other’s moods. An hour after arriving at the piano bar, he looked over his glass and into Root’s eyes.

“There’s a sadness in your eyes Caroline. Are you in mourning as well?”

The question surprised and disarmed Root in a way that was completely unexpected. Tears came to her eyes for the first time since she stormed out of the safe house weeks before upon realizing Shaw had left her for _him_.

Toliver reached for her hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, Ian, it’s OK. I guess I _am_ in mourning. A couple months ago, I lost the one person I thought I could have something permanent with. She didn’t die though- she left me for someone else. I was involved in some things and never had time to fully process- maybe now is that time.”

Toliver held out a napkin, then sat back silently as Root cried softly for several minutes. He reached over and took her hand.

“If you want, I can leave. But, also if you want, I can listen.”

Smiling sadly, Root told the Australian about Shaw, sanitizing the story for both their sakes. She spoke for about fifteen minutes and as she reached the end, her tears began to dry and she felt a sense of relief at being able to share her burden with someone who truly seemed to care- and care about her.

“I miss her terribly and I don’t blame her for leaving. We were in a situation where we could have been torn apart at any time. She was forced to live a life that was never going to work for her in the long run. But to leave without saying anything, and to leave with him- that broke me.”

“It sounds like you still love her.”

Root nodded.

“I’ll die loving her. She was, after Hannah, the only one I could ever love as anything more than a friend. But what do I do now that my life is over? Where do I go?”

“First of all, your life isn’t over. I will never have a relationship with anyone that will come close to what Annie and I had. But that doesn’t mean my life is over. This Walkabout has helped me clear my head and given me strength to go forward. It could work for you too, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can go Walkabout anywhere, though there’s no place like down-under. You wander- no destination, no plans no anything. Take what comes your way and just keep going. From what you’ve told me you can afford to do pretty much whatever you want, wherever you want. Hell, go to Australia, stay a few months, walkabout and keep going until you feel it.”

“Feel _what?_ ”

“ _It_ is different for everyone. For me it was the sense that despite my heartbreak I could go on, that remembering the good things without despairing of the loneliness could be the foundation of a life worth getting up for every morning.

“I don’t know what will give you peace but I do know it’s worth a try. And I know one of the best places in the world to walkabout is the land down-under. Walk the Outback, swim around the Great Barrier Reef- it’s an indescribable experience.”

“Ian, I don’t know, but I will think about it.”

….

Ian walked through the terminal at Houston’s International Airport. He approached the Gate for the United Flight and approached the ticket clerk.

“Ian Toliver, flight to Brisbane, through Sydney.”

“Ah yes, Mr. Toliver, here you are- you’ve been upgraded to Business Class.”

“I beg your pardon? There must be some mistake.”

The ticket agent looked at her computer.

“No mistake sir, you’re booked Business class through ’til Sydney.”

_I’m sure they’ll fix this once we board._

There were no fixes and Ian sat back in his recliner sipping a martini and reading the in flight magazine when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Do you mind?”

He looked up, then smiled.

“Caroline, what are you doing here?”

Root smiled down and slipped past Ian, taking the window seat.

“Walkabout.”

She shrugged her shoulders and continued.

“I figured if I’m going to do it, I may as well go native.”

“And did you have anything to do with my sudden upgrade to business?”

“Mr. Toliver, I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

….

Root spent three and a half weeks with Ian before setting off on her own. He taught her snorkeling off the Reef, showed her some of the spots around Queensland and gave her tips on how to get around the Outback safely. She was a quick study at snorkeling, and found to her surprise that she enjoyed it.

_It’s beautiful and peaceful under the ocean’s surface- no bad code to worry about._

When Toliver discovered Root planned on going far into the Outback alone for an extended period of time, he ramped up his warnings about the dangers of trying to go it alone out there.Root smiled indulgently during one of Ian’s frequent lectures and said gently,

“I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

“Fine, Caroline, but this is a whole different level of adventure, you need to be on alert when you’re in the Outback. There are dangerous critters out there- and animals too.”

Root decided not to share the preparations she had made before surprising Ian on the flight to Sydney. A trunk was delivered to her suite two days after they arrived in Brisbane containing over a dozen illegal weapons and enough ammunition to supply a small army.

When deciding to walkabout, Root determined she’d rather be safe than sorry. It was relatively easy to get weapons into the country if you could hack the manifests of several carriers. Within days, she had rented a storage locker and bought a LandRover for her journeys into the Outback.

Finally, she gave Ian a kiss on the cheek, hugged him and took off on her adventure. Before she left, she made a decision, and not lightly.

“Ian, I need to tell you something. My name’s not Caroline Turing. For your safety I won’t tell you my real name. But the last few years, I’ve wanted my friends to call me Root. I don’t make friends casually or easily. I’d like you to call me Root.”

Toliver’s eyes misted briefly.

“I’m honored… Root.”

….

 

The first few days felt like they were going to kill her. She wasn't aware that it was even possible for your entire body to get a charley horse. The second night she tried to sleep curled up in the back of the LandRover with the back seat folded down. Because her legs were too long she slept with them curled up, feet almost touching her ass.

Sometime after midnight it started- seizing her hamstrings. When she straightened her legs to relieve the muscles, her thighs erupted. As she sat up to rub her thighs, they hit her chest. And when she stretched back to relieve the chest- you guessed it, her back.

Groaning, she eventually made her way out the rear hatch and leaned against the side of the Rover just waiting for it to settle down. It did, eventually, and she fell back to sleep with tears slipping down her cheeks.

_How did Sameen ever decide this physical abuse was fun?_

The second week, it got better. By the end of the third week, Root was actually looking forward to her walks, which had grown from just under six miles to almost 20. The soreness faded and she realized she was in the best shape of her life.

And she was healing- to a certain extent.

The days before she returned to the States, she snorkeled off the Great Barrier Reef for three hours on four consecutive days. She felt alive, as good as she’d ever felt. There still was a hole in her, but if she was honest, that hole was always there- a Shaw sized hole that could never be filled short of a miracle.

And she didn’t believe in miracles.

The night before her plane was to leave, Root met Ian for dinner at a spot near Brisbane. They fell right into the comfortable back and forth that had been developing in the weeks before Root went Walkabout. As the evening ended, Root looked across the table and gazed into Toliver’s eyes. Her’s were bright with tears.

“I’m really going to miss you, Ian.”

"I’m only a 24 hour flight away. You’ve always got a place to stay. My new place isn’t huge, but there will always be room for you.” He smiled sadly, “You know, I’ve thought several times ‘What could have been.’”

“Ian, you’re the first person I’ve met that made me think I wouldn’t mind being straight.”

“I guess that will have to be enough, Root.”

….

Shaw looked around the deserted subway, wondering…

_This looks like it was abandoned months ago. Where did they go? What happened? Is she OK?_

She had arrived only hours earlier and took an Uber to a location a mile from the subway. Sticking to her memory of the shadow map, she made her way to the stairs and past the false vending machine. The floor was caked with dust, the car itself looked like they had simply grabbed some important stuff and left the rest.

Shaw’s heart clenched when she saw the bunny slippers lying against Bear’s bed, both covered in dust. She made a decision. Leaving the subway, she made her way back to street level and headed for a local Starbucks. Over coffee, she removed the burner, slid the battery in and put the Sim card in it’s spot. Once powered she called the only number saved in it.

The computerized message told her her party wasn’t available and to leave a message at the tone.

“Root, it’s me. I’d like to see you. I’ll keep this phone and check it daily.”

She then called the NYPD’s 21st Precinct and asked for Detective Fusco.

“Fusco.”

“Lionel, it’s Shaw.”

Silence. Then after almost thirty seconds.

“Maybelline, where have you been?”

“Where’s Root?”

“Nice to hear from you too. I haven’t heard from nor seen Cocoa Puffs in six months. Since the final war went down.”

“Final war? Where’s Finch, where’s Reese?”

“They’re around- I hear they’re rebuilding in the aftermath of the craziness that went on six months ago. I have a number, but I’m not supposed to share it with anyone.”

“Fine, Lionel, but do me a favor. Call Reese and give him this number, I need to talk to him.”

“I’ll deliver the message.”

_Click_. Fusco stared at his phone.

“Nice talking to you.”

….

 

Shaw was running in the park the next morning when her phone vibrated. She grabbed it out of her pocket and looked at the number. _Not Root, maybe it’s John._

“Shaw.”

Reese’s voice had just a touch of anger to it.

“Why’d you come back Shaw? Tomas throw you out?”

“I left him, Reese, if it’s any of your business. Where are you guys?”

He gave her the address.

“Harold and I will be there after noon.”

“See you then.”

….

Shaw went directly to the address- and was impressed. Situated in a neighborhood of old shops, brownstones and brick apartments, it was obviously the most refurbished property for blocks. New windows, reinforced steel door and a small sign that said “TM Industries” over the bell. Four stories and at least 200 feet of frontage and, as she walked around, nearly that much depth.

_Place is huge. And it’s obvious- they must not need to hide anymore. I wonder what the story is with that?_

She walked right up to the door and rang, despite being 20 minutes early. The door opened and Shaw started at the familiar face.

“Zoe, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Zoe Morgan looked like she was about to go into a board meeting- black two piece suit with blazer over white blouse. She smiled faintly at Shaw.

“I was told to expect you. Come on in.”

The first floor was impressive- two story entrance with new flooring, walls and offices. At the far end of the entrance area a security guard sat behind a raised counter. Behind him were two doors and off to one side an elevator.

_He’s window dressing- I bet the real security is behind one of those doors._

Zoe approached the guard.

“This is Sameen Shaw. She’s Mr. Finch’s guest.”

The guard held up a badge with “Shaw, Sameen” embossed on it. It had a red square in the upper left-hand corner. Zoe took the badge, attached a lanyard and hung it over Shaw’s head. She tilted her head toward the elevator.

“Follow me.”

In the elevator, Zoe was silent, but she watched Shaw like a pro. The Zoe Morgan Shaw remembered was being replaced by one who reminded her some of herself when she first joined ISA.

_What are they doing here?_

They ascended to the fourth floor. As the doors opened, Shaw saw her former partner and possibly former friend. Reese’s face was expressionless but he nodded.

“Shaw. Come on over, we’re seeing Harold in five.”

Precisely five minutes later, the door opened and a lady Shaw didn’t recognize stepped out.

“You can go in now.”

Harold Finch had changed in the months since Shaw last saw him. His hair was noticeably grayer and his walk as he came around the desk was much more restricted. He appeared to be deteriorating but still managed to approach her without a cane. He smiled faintly and offered his hand.

“Ms. Shaw, it’s been quite a long time. How are you?”

“Not so good, Harold, but that’s nobody’s fault but mine. I wanted to just ask one thing, but seeing this, I have to ask, what happened? Where’s Samaritan? You are obviously no longer hiding from it.”

“Samaritan was defeated, Ms. Shaw, but not without much cost and sacrifice.”

Finch took the next ten minutes giving Shaw a condensed version of the events that took Samaritan down, the rebooting of the Machine and their move and expansion to the current location. When he finished, Shaw raised her eyebrows.

“And what about Root? She’s the reason I came back. I need to talk to her. Where is she?”

Finch’s face reddened slightly, then he turned away. Reese reached out and took Shaw’s shoulder in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Shaw, Root’s gone.”

“Well just tell me where I can find her.”

“Shaw, she’s gone, she died. She’s buried in Milwaukee under one of the names she used previously, Kelly Dyson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think? Is it realistic, now that the shoe is almost on the other foot? Is Root moving on just when Shaw finally wakes up? Please let me know what you think? And thanks to all who are still with me on this.


	4. California Dreamin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read and especially to those who've commented so far. I'm feeding off all of you to keep going. This chapter is less than totally satisfying to me but here it is. These two definitely belong together and there may be a window of opportunity opening soon. It's still a little foggy.

“I’m sorry, Shaw, Root’s gone.”

“Well, just tell me where I can find her.”

“Shaw, she’s gone, she died. She’s buried in Milwaukee under one of the names she used previously, Kelly Dyson.”

Shaw stood in silence, absorbing Reese’s words. She felt, she felt…. _something_ … she felt empty almost like when she hadn’t eaten for awhile, but she wasn’t hungry. She felt a burning, like the few times she’d been shot, but all over her body, not like the past when only the wound burned.

She felt a tightening in her chest and her throat that she didn’t recognize but also didn’t like.

_What is this?_

She remained standing, silent and unmoving. Finally, Reese squeezed her shoulder.

“Shaw, do you want to sit down?”

She shook her head in the negative, then walked to a chair and sat. She took a deep breath and looked Finch in the eye.

“Tell me everything.”

….

The captain’s voice came over the cabin’s speakers.

“We’re a few minutes early, folks. The tailwinds really gave us a boost today. The weather in Los Angeles is sunny, if you can see through the smog. High temperature is forecast to be 82 degrees. Thanks for flying with us we’ll be down in five minutes.”

Root looked out the window and reflected on her adventure. Australia and her time with Ian had changed her, healed her. She was still damaged, still heartbroken, but had discovered there might be hope, might be life beyond the emptiness she felt that day in the safe house.

_I’ll always love you, Sameen. I would have taken whatever you were willing to give. Part of me wants to hate you, but I can’t. The person I fell in love with was perfect just the way she was. If you couldn’t stay- well that was part of you, and I loved all of you._

_I just wish I could have spoken to you one more time._

Her tears came less frequently now, and lasted less time. She dabbed at her eyes and started making preparations for landing.

….

Finch recounted Root’s activities, the best they had been able to recreate them. Shaw listened without comment for the entire story, then when Finch stopped, shook her head.

“Sorry but I can’t buy it. At least I need a whole lot more than what you’ve given me so far. I’m a little surprised, quite frankly, that you bought this whole scenario without question.”

Reese frowned pensively.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, first of all, none of you ever saw a body. That’s a red flag. Second, her remains were immediately cremated- someone gave that order, normally it would only come from next of kin, _of which Root had none_. Unless you count us, of course.

“Finally, maybe most importantly, you have one of the smartest people in the world taking down two members of the Joint Chiefs and she does it kamikaze? Really, without letting anyone know ahead of time? What if it failed and only she was killed?

“I think she saw an opportunity to disappear, fake her death and maybe start over. Hell, none of us ever tried to show her we cared, tried to make her feel like she belonged. Maybe she decided her old life as a hacker and killer for hire was more attractive than a post-Samaritan world. Maybe she decided to start fresh with no ties whatsoever to _anything_ in her past.

"Maybe she's gone underground and wants to vanish without any trace. And if that's what she really wants I will honor it. But she needs to hear why I really left, from me, and needs to hear that I know I screwed up royally when I did.

"Then whatever she decides I will accept. But I won't accept her being dead. At least not without more proof."

Reese tilted his head in Harold's direction. They looked at each other for a minute or so. Finch finally spoke.

"We did consider the possibility briefly but discounted it when we heard she was cremated and buried in Milwaukee. Maybe we should have looked harder at the circumstances surrounding her "death" if that's what it really was."

Shaw got to her feet. She turned and headed for the door.

"The trail's cold and getting colder by the hour. I'm going to see the grave- after I check a few things out.”

She stopped at Finch's door and turned back.

"I'm the one who could have, hell should have prevented this. I'll let you know if I discover anything."

....

Root walked out of LAX and gazed at the beautiful California sunshine. She was going to spend a day or two in the City of Angels before heading... somewhere. She was leaning towards setting down somewhere in the Rockies but knew no one in any of the mountain states.

_So what? You went Walkabout when you didn't even know what that was- you don't need to know anyone to settle down there. Wherever there ends up being. You'll be alone no matter what unless you settle, or unless…. forget it…. remember you don't believe in miracles._

"Hi miss- I'm inviting people to our church service this evening."

Root's head snapped around, the put down coming instantly to her lips.

"Church and church people damn near destroyed me... young man. Not interested."

She would have really gone off on the boy holding out a sheet of paper if he hadn't been so young and looked so earnest. He could have been as young as 15 or as old as 19, she wasn't sure. _Oh darlin' you're getting old when you can't tell for sure._ His face looked so innocent she held her tongue. Instead she held her out her hand, palm raised, to say no and shook her head negatively.

The boy just smiled.

"My parents felt just as you did until ten years ago. I was six years old when a truck ran over me when I was riding my bike home from school. They told my folks I was dead- when they got where I was they had covered me with a sheet and were loading me into the ambulance to go wherever you take dead people.

"My parents were freaking, as you can imagine. As they were about to close the door, a man ran up and said he was told he had to pray for me. Mom and Dad said go ahead…. what did they have to lose anyway?

"Five minutes later he starts yelling for the he paramedics. They look inside the ambulance and I'm breathing. By the time they got me to the hospital I was awake and ready to go home. I was sore but I wasn't dead anymore. They had my heart and other stuff monitored so they were sure I was dead. But I wasn't.

"Here's the story on the back of our church bulletin- read it for yourself. Miracles can happen miss- I'm living proof."

His words shook Root to her core. _Miracles- you just thought “I don't believe in miracles.” Does that mean something?_

Root smiled at the boy and accepted the paper.

"I don't believe in God or miracles young man but I will read your story and think about it."

"Thanks, miss. That's all I ask."

She raised her hand and waved at a taxi. Climbing in she caressed the paper and sat back after directing the driver toward downtown. She spent the entire trip in silence, thinking.

....

Shaw changed plans after leaving the team's new HQ. She called Fusco and twisted his arm.

"Lionel, I need everything you have on a multiple fatality on the Chesapeake Bridge on..."  
She gave him the date, "Accident occurred approximately 2300 hours. Plus I'd like responding officers to talk to about the scene. Can you help me?"

"I'll call you back."

....

Root arrived at a private condo overlooking the Pacific. She spent the entire cab ride thinking. As she walked into the condo, she pulled out one of her burners. The voice on the other end was female and professional.

"Memorial Park, how may I direct your call?"

"I want to request changes to a plaque in your Columbarium."

"Name?"

"Kelly Dyson.”

….

Shaw got off the freeway near the Maryland State Police headquarters. Fusco and Finch both pulled strings for her to get unfettered access to the report on the incident which took the lives of two members of the Joint Chiefs, a decorated Special Forces veteran, and a nondescript government aide named Kelly Dyson.

State Patrol Colonel Bryce Addison was head of the Maryland State Police. He kept Shaw waiting fifteen minutes before having her ushered into his office. Addison was pissed. _Who is this bitch that the Governor’s office leans on me to cooperate with her?_ He decided to intimidate her, obstruct her and get her out of his office so he could get back to real work.

“Ms. Shaw, I don’t know who sent you, who’s backing you or what you think you’re going to accomplish by looking into this terrible accident but I’m telling you if you’re looking for dirt on either General Davies or Admiral Ross, I won’t help you.”

Shaw sat there silently for a minute, then two. As the silence became uncomfortable, Addison decided enough was enough.

“We’re done here.”

He stood and walked to his door and opened it. Shaw stayed in her seat, back turned to the Colonel, ignoring him. After another two or three uncomfortable minutes, Addison returned to his desk and, still standing, said,

“I said we’re done here- you can leave.”

Shaw, who had been gazing at the picture to the left of the Colonel’s desk, brought her eyes back to Addison.

“I’d hoped we could do this civilly, in a spirit of cooperation.”

She stood, turned and walked to his door and closed it- from the inside. Turning, she unloaded.

“Eighteen months ago you began an affair with your son’s grade school teacher. You two met at a parent-teacher conference while your wife was in the hospital recovering from a miscarriage. You’ve been fucking her twice a week for almost a year and a half- always at seedy little motels along the Bay.

“In addition, your wife has developed an addiction to anti-depressants and Oxycodone due to the experience of losing the baby. You’ve escaped to your boy’s teacher rather than help your wife when she was at her most vulnerable.

“You will cooperate or your career will be over. I understand you have designs on the state AG’s office and maybe the Governor’s chair someday. Think long and hard before you say another thing.”

Addison’s face went from shock to rage to fear in seconds. Recovering, he sat down and grabbed a glass from the table behind his desk. Filling it with water, he drank, then turned back to Shaw.

“What do you want?”

“Everything.”

….

Root left the condo and walked the 100 yards to the beach. She walked several miles up the coastline, then returned. She went the other direction until her Fitbit said she had gone fifteen miles- plenty for a day she was “recovering” from the twenty plus hour flight. When she felt all the stress and exhaustion from the trip and her encounter at the airport had left her body, she walked out onto the beach in front of her condo and sat down on the sand.

For the next ninety minutes she watched the waves, watched the people and watched the sun make its way inevitably to the horizon. As the Pacific devoured the fiery red ball and dusk replaced the light, she returned to her condo, ate a light dinner and grabbed some wine. She sat on the patio lost in thought until the chill from the evening forced her inside.

By nine o’clock, jet lag was finally catching up with her. As her eyes began to drift slowly downward, she set the glass down and headed for bed. Her last thoughts, as she drifted off were of Ian, her Walkabout and… her love.

_Goodnight Sam, I hope you’re happy, wherever you are._

….

Back in the room in the Holiday Inn, Shaw was sitting on the king-size bed, papers and photos spread everywhere. She had been over the file Addison had copied for her for three hours and, while no smoking guns appeared, there was plenty there to raise alarms.

_Shit, Root- the only reason I can think you were this sloppy is that you knew Samaritan was fatally injured and didn’t care if people could dig deep enough to realize you could have faked this. Unless…._

Shaw shook her head to clear it of any hope- she didn’t deserve to hope that Root had left _her_ a message that she was still alive. She dealt with facts, and the overriding fact Root had to deal with was that Shaw had left her and, from her vantage point, left her for someone else.

While not true, she realized it was the only conclusion Root could have reached because she never gave her any reason to doubt the evidence.

For the… what... tenth… twentieth… fiftieth time since that day in New York Shaw berated herself for the way she left. _I should have talked to her, I should have explained what was going on- maybe none of this would have happened. What if it’s true, what if she really died and you’re just grasping at straws to keep a pipe-dream alive? What are you going to do then?_

Shaw went back to examining the evidence she’d collected, pushing her doubts aside. After another couple of hours, satisfied, she packed up the file and went to sleep. She tossed and turned for over an hour before falling into a fitful sleep interrupted by dreams of Root’s body washing up on the Maryland shore.

_Shaw raced down the shoreline to Root’s body. As she turned her over, she recoiled at the bloody mess covering Root’s face. Just as she was going to stand and walk away, the eyes opened and Root looked into Shaw’s eyes and raised her hand._

_“You, this is all your fault. I loved you and you killed me….”_

Shaw sat up in bed, a scream caught in her throat. _Dream, just a dream._

The rest of the night passed slowly, with Shaw staring at the ceiling for most of it.

….

_Root was lying on the couch in the safe house. Sameen had approached her and knelt down at her head. She leaned forward and gently shook her, smiling down with love in her eyes._

_"Root wake up."_

_Root''s eyes opened but Sam didn't notice. Root opened her mouth but no sound came out. Shaw shook her harder, the harder again, the look of love slowly replaced by one of concern, then panic. Finally Shaw screamed_

_"Roooot......"_

Root sat straight up in the bed, looking around for Shaw. As she realized she was only dreaming, she was confused by the fact that the shaking had continued. She looked around the room, dimly lit by the approaching dawn, she observed the pictures vibrating on the walls and the few items on the dresser rattling across its surface. She finally realized she was experiencing her first earthquake.

The hacker rolled out of bed and headed for the closed door of the bedroom. Opening it, she cowered on the floor in the doorway, waiting for the shaking to stop. Gradually over a relatively short three minutes or so (that seemed like three hours or so) the shaking faded and eventually stopped completely.

Root walked to the front door, opened it and walked outside. Very little in the area surrounding the condo looked different, almost like nothing had just occurred. She walked around the exterior of the condo, then examined most of the inside- no damage was apparent at first glance.

As she headed into the kitchen to make coffee, she finally noticed evidence of the tremblor. Several of the coffee cups had tipped over and the water jug in the fridge had spilled about a quarter of its contents from the shaking.

Root made a cup of coffee in the Keurig and went out on the patio, too amped to go back to sleep. The shaking, now confined to Root’s hands, went on considerably longer than the quake itself.

_I sure don’t want to live in California- this shit is definitely not for me. The Rockies don’t have any earthquakes, do they? I’ll have to check that out and check out real estate values in the Mountain States._

Root spent the majority of the following morning on the internet, then on the phone with various real estate agents in the Mountain West. By mid-afternoon, she had possible properties and a plane reservation for Denver the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So please let me know what you think- as I said this chapter wasn't exactly what I envisioned, but it is where it decided it wanted to go. Thanks again for all your support.


	5. Climb Every Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have rushed this one a little- but wanted to get it posted before the weekend. Let me know what you think.

Root stood looking out over miles and miles of mountains, valleys and beauty. _I could get used to this. The solitude of Walkabout, the convenience of Grand Junction and the views- oh man the views. Even on the worst days, the views could raise my spirits._ Root weighed her options, considered the possibilities, and made up her mind.

She turned and walked back to the patio door, slid it open and stepped back into the dinette. Michele looked over as she closed the screen, then the glass door. She smiled confidently and tilted her head.

“What do you think?”

“I’ll take it. Offer them $389,000.”

“That’s way less than they’ve been asking.”

“I’ll go to half a million, but I think they need to know the market and they need to decide how long they want to wait for the economy out here to grow enough to support their asking price. It’s a cash offer- no contingencies.”

“That will help. Would you like to have lunch in the Junction while we write it up?”

There was more than a meal in that invitation and both knew it.

Root smiled at the tall, blonde beauty.

"I'd love it."

....

 

Lunch was interrupted- plans changed on the way down the mountain. As Telluride faded into the rear view mirror, Michele looked over at Root and rested her hand on the hacker's forearm.

"We could grab a couple wraps and fixin's for salad at the market, then draw up the contract at my place."

Root looked over at the agent and held her gaze for an uncomfortable length of time. As Michele began to wonder if she'd misread the situation, Root smiled almost predatorily.

"I'd like that."

....

"We probably should set some ground rules."

Michele looked over at the smoldering brunette lying beside her in the king-sized bed. Root's creamy skin and dark hair contrasted with the blonde's caramel complexion. The two wore a sheen of perspiration from the last hours activity.

Root gazed into the blonde's bright blue eyes. She slid out of bed and walked naked into the bathroom. She washed her face, sipped from a bottle of water, then returned to the bed.

"I wasn't planning on declaring my undying devotion, but if you'd like a return engagement I'd be happy to discuss it."

Michele blushed faintly, then smiled.

"Look, the only reason I brought it up is that I'm married and have no plans to divorce. My husband owns a significant part of the private real estate in the surrounding counties and we have an arrangement- I do what I want as long as I don't publicly embarrass him."

Root smiled back faintly.

"I think we can work something out. I won't ever commit to anyone long term again."

There was just a tinge of sadness in both her voice and her eyes when she said it. Michele noticed.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"As silly as it sounds, considering we're in bed, I don't know you well enough.. yet.

“Let’s work on this offer to purchase.”

….

Shaw walked into the Columbarium at Memorial Park in a western suburb of Milwaukee. Holding the map in her hand she searched the wall until she found the plaque she was looking for.

Kelly Dyson  
1979-2016  
_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound_  
_That saved a wretch like me_  
_I once was lost but now I’m found_  
_Was blind but now I see_

**.. . ..**  
**.  .**

_What’s with the weird hieroglyphics on the bottom? And why does this plate look so new?_

Shaw headed back toward the main building. When she reached the office, she asked for the manager. After a few minutes, a man in his late 30’s to early 40’s came out of an office, approached Shaw and held out his hand.

“Ms. Shaw, I’m Gregory Martin, the manager here. How can I help you?”

“Mr. Martin, I have some questions about one of the bodies interred here. Kelly Dyson. Ms. Dyson was an associate of mine- we both worked at DOD. When she died, there was a mixup in processing and it appears the funeral home cremated the wrong body.

“There was a car accident back in Maryland, two women and one man were killed. When the coroner arrived, the purses of the female victims were inadvertently misidentified and the bodies ended up switched. The accident was fairly gruesome and all three bodies were badly disfigured.

“It appears Ms. Dyson’s body was not the one cremated, since she had a cochlear implant for deafness in her right ear. The other family has only now claimed their loved ones body, and for insurance purposes requested an autopsy. During the autopsy, the body was revealed to have a cochlear implant which that family insists means the bodies were switched.

“I’ve been called in by DOD to investigate. I’m going to need access to the entire Dyson file, the instructions for cremation and of course her next of kin. This is a very sensitive situation and, as I’m sure you understand, should remain confidential.”

Shaw removed her DOD identification, the documentation regarding the accident and the body mixup and the order from the State of Maryland authorizing the investigation and handed them to Martin. Since they were actually produced by the DOD, the funeral home in Maryland and the State of Maryland (courtesy of the Machine) there was no way to tell they were forgeries.

Martin looked them over and handed them back. He reached for his phone, spoke into it briefly and turned back to Shaw.

“Our file on Dyson will be brought to you Ms. Shaw. If you’d like, you can study it here or we can make copies of everything and let you take it along for your investigation. It’s a sad situation- reminds me of that tragic college bus crash a few years ago, where a survivor and a fatality were mixed up and it took weeks for them to realize the mistake.

“At least here, the two were both dead. I’ve often wondered how a family can go through the tragedy of losing a member, grieving and then finding out they survived. And how a family can go through the tragedy of almost losing a member, finding out they’ll survive only to discover they had lost that individual and didn’t know it.”

He shook his head. They were interrupted by a knock on the door. A young woman entered with an accordion file filled with papers. She handed it to Martin who looked at Shaw.

“Mr. Martin, if you don’t mind, I’d like to accept your offer to copy the file. I’ve got a tentative reservation to fly back to DC tonight and would rather conduct my investigation from there. I do have one question though- it appears the plate covering Ms. Dyson’s remains is new. She died months ago.

“Why wasn’t a plate put on before?”

Martin studied the file. His expression changed from pensive to quizzical as he read several of the entries. Finally, he looked up at Shaw and shook his head.

“I don’t understand it Ms. Shaw. There was a plate originally covering it but it was changed out about two weeks ago. The order came by phone and was paid for by a wire transfer.”

“Who ordered it?”

“Well, the executor of the will is a blind trust, the person who initiated the call was Robin Farrow. They would have had all the information corresponding to the burial and of course, since we were paid, we followed the executor’s wishes. The details are in here and there is a contact number for Ms. Farrow.”

Shaw’s face remained passive, but for the first time since she was in Finch’s office, a sliver of hope peeked through her darkness.

_Root- I know it’s you!_

….

Shaw flew back to New York and went straight to the refurbished headquarters of the Machine. She was fit to be tied that the guards made her wait while they received clearance to enter, then made her wait an excruciating fifteen minutes before they informed Finch, who was meeting with a handful of recruits that were finishing up training.

“I’m terribly sorry, Ms. Shaw- we need to get you clearance to come up whenever you need to- I’m afraid almost all the people who work in this building don’t know who you are and what your history is with our little enterprise.”

“No matter Harold- I think I have proof that Root’s alive.”

She recounted the story of the meeting with Martin, the change of plates and the order from the blind trust.

“The caller who instructed the plate be changed was Robin Farrow.”

“What? They used the name I used when I had Ms. Groves committed? Impossible!”

“Unless Root was sending us a message. I thought about this on the flight back from Milwaukee and I have an operating theory. What if Root wanted to die and cut all ties to her previous life, both as a contract killer and as a member of out team? What if after she did just that, something happened to change her mind but she didn’t want to just resurrect?

“What if she left a trail for someone who might come looking, so if motivated, that someone could track her down? Right now it’s just a theory, but I don’t believe in coincidences, and Robin Farrow is one hell of a coincidence.”

Finch stared at Shaw. There was just a hint of laughter in his expression.

“It would be so Root-like, Ms. Shaw, for her to play a game to see if anyone came looking.” He shook his head.

“We’d need proof, or overwhelming evidence. Then we’d have to figure out a strategy that would help us locate her. With the funds she undoubtedly secreted before and after working for the Machine she has to be worth tens of millions of dollars. She could literally be anywhere in the world.”

“But we have an all-seeing AI to help us, Harold. Let’s let ‘her’ as Root would say, look for her for us while we look for more clues. The Machine can track any use of any of the names Root used while she was ‘Analogue Interface’ and we can provide any names we can remember that might be pre Machine.

“What do you think?”

Finch nodded.

“I think it’s worth a shot as long as we have a strategy and an end game. What if it turns out she didn’t really want to be found and we find her? How do we deal with that?”

“I already told you, if she wants to be left alone, I’ll honor her wishes, but first she’s going to hear what I need to say to her.”

“And that is?”

“Between the two of us.”

….

Root signed the papers ten days after her lunch with Michele. They had several “meetings” to go over details and planned a more elaborate celebration once she was properly moved in. The chalet was over 4000 square feet with five bedrooms six baths and an exposed basement that added over 2500 square feet of living space.

The previous owners were survivalists who died in a private plane crash in Alaska. The couple, in their late 50’s, left behind two children who only wanted to sell everything off, split the money and go their separate ways. That allowed Root to stay well under her $500,000 ceiling and the cash offer allowed both parties to schedule a quick closing.

Root sat back after signing the last paper and smiled at the previous owner’s attorney. There were only the three in the conference room, the children preferring to remain at their homes and let others settle the final affairs of their parents.

“Thank you Mr. Oates for allowing us to fast-track this and schedule it in the middle of the day. I have a few things to take care of while the movers are moving my furniture in.”

“You’re quite welcome Ms. Sinclair, this was the easiest property transfer I’ve ever been associated with. I hope you enjoy the property.”

Michele stood and offered her hand to the attorney.

“Thanks, Peter, but Veronica and I have another engagement.”

“It was a pleasure, Michele, tell Ben I will look forward to seeing him at the club.”

The attorney left the room. Michele looked over at Root.

“Shall we, Ms. Sinclair?”

Root only smiled, as she rose to her feet. The two left the office together and headed for their vehicles. Root’s maroon Cayenne was parked next to Michele’s Escalade. As they stood at their respective driver’s doors, Michele looked over Root’s Porsche.

“My place for a quick bite, then we’ll head to the house.”

“Quick bite, huh? Is that what they’re calling it?”

As Michele rolled her eyes, Root smirked, then her expression changed.

“Michele, please don’t ever roll your eyes at me.”

The agent hesitated, smile disappearing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Okay, but that’s a real sore spot with me. If we’re going to keep this going, it’s one of the few ground rules.”

Her smile reappeared, but it lacked its normal warmth.

….

“So what’s up with you guys and Root?” I thought she died.”

Fusco was his old, tactful self. He had wandered into the offices around lunch time, grabbed one of the sandwiches from Park’s Deli. Shaw looked over with fire in her eyes.

“Touch the one wrapped in brown paper and you’ll lose a hand, Fusco.”

“God, Maybelline, what is it with you and food.”

“Just stay away from the sandwich. Root’s alive, Lionel and I’m going to find her. I’ve proven it to my satisfaction, but there are a couple more things I’d like to clear up. I even have a small trail that points me to Australia, but it gets murky after that.”

“What’s with this picture- it looks like a tiny gravestone?”

“There’s two and I really don’t know why. The first is the original, then just recently a mysterious phone call ordered a change to the the one next to it. They added the verse.”

“What are these weird markings at the bottom?”

“Don’t know, they may just be decoration- but it sure is a weird decoration.”

Fusco stared at the second picture for several minutes. He turned and stared at Shaw.

“You know, I wasn’t there so I don’t know how these appear in person, but those things remind me of what my niece from Florida uses to read. She’s blind, you know- what do they call it?”

“Braille, Lionel and……”

Shaw’s voice trailed off as Finch and Reese entered the room. She stood and walked over to the pictures.

“Harold, ask the Machine if the dots at the bottom of Kelly’s plaque mean anything in Braille.”

Finch went over to his laptop and typed a few sentences, then sat back. Seconds later, he shook his head.

“I don’t think it means anything. According to the Machine, it would mean 4-A-F.

“What is 4-A-F?”

The group sat in silence. Shaw had just taken another bite of her sandwich when she dropped it and stood.

“Shhhttt!”

The group stared at her, confused. She finished chewing and swallowed.

“Shit. Finch, did you talk to Root after I told you I was leaving with Tomas?”

Finch nodded sadly.

“Yes, and I told her what you said- she was pretty hysterical.”

“But not so hysterical that she forgot. Remember, I said to you something like ‘tell her we’d be like a four alarm fire in an oil refinery’. _Four- Alarm- Fire_ Finch- 4-A-F!”

Finch stared as recognition dawned on him. Reese smiled but Fusco frowned and shook his head.

“Why would Fruit Loops go to all that trouble?”

“Lionel, I think she wanted only someone who’d move heaven and earth to see her coming looking for her. I think she may have decided to send _me_ a message.”

Shaw approached the display boards set up in the conference room.

“Look, we have her dying as Kelly Dyson. We have her traveling to Bishop TX and Australia as Caroline Turing. We have her Returning to LAX as Augusta King. And we have her requesting the change at the cemetery as Robin Farrow. There’s one name, from my vantage point, missing.

“Find Veronica Sinclair and you’ll find Root.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you guys think. Comments help me, they give me fuel to keep going. This has been a wild ride, never tried anything like this on a deadline, even a self-imposed one. Thanks again for anyone who's still with me.


	6. Sweet Home Alabama?

The Machine spit out 1464 names matching the search parameters for Veronica Sinclair. Tweaking the search removed 368 as under 18 years of age and an additional 487 as over 65 years of age. Of the 609 remaining names, 307 were dead. Phone screening removed another 180 for varying reasons.

The Machine contracted several investigators to temporarily eliminate approximately two-thirds of the remaining group- they would receive greater scrutiny if necessary.

Shaw looked at a list of 41 Veronica Sinclairs worldwide and wondered if she had made a mistake. _What if she's not one of these? What if I'm wrong about her using the Sinclair alias? What if...._

Shaw stood and walked away from the conference table where she had spent hours going over possibilities. So far 18 of the forty-one had been eliminated. _Who’d have guessed that seven Veronica Sinclairs would be doing time- go figure_. It was arduous compiling enough data on each to eliminate them from consideration.

Shaw had spent five days working the first eighteen names, eventually crossing them off. The seven tracked to various facilities of incarceration around the world were relatively easy. Medical privacy slowed down tracking on five who were confined to two nursing homes, a critical care facility for spinal injuries (for eleven years) and two psychiatric hospitals.

The last six were eliminated mainly for the easy access to tracking them. Shaw went on one of the team’s laptops, accessed each file, and within minutes was watching live feeds from security cameras near each’s current location. At that point it was just a matter of time and patience until the individual appeared, and was eliminated.

_Too short, too heavy, too old, too something… I suspect I’m going to have to do some old fashioned knocking on doors to eventually eliminate all the false positives. The Machine, however, does make it easier._

Shaw spent the next two weeks painstakingly eliminating twelve more Veronica Sinclair hits. Some, as had happened initially were multiples- two DWI’s in St. Louis and three misdemeanor thefts in Jerusalem.

The St. Louis hits were the same lady driving home through two counties and being unlucky enough to be caught in both counties random checkpoints on the same night.

The Jerusalem hits were the work of a gang of teens who’d stolen a tourist’s purse and used her ID and credit cards to purchase electronics, liquor and cigarettes. They were sloppy and eventually caught, and the tourist who had her purse stolen was reunited with her property.

By the end of the fourth week, Shaw had five hits staring at her that she was unable to clear. Three were in Mobile, Alabama- a rental agreement for an apartment near downtown Mobile, a frequent shopper card at a Safeway within a few blocks of the loft, and a bill for internet at the same address the rental agreement had on it.

The last two were less promising, but mysterious none the less. A Veronica Sinclair was listed as a trustee for a corporate purchase of a Porsche Cayenne in Denver, CO several weeks earlier. In addition, a Veronica Sinclair’s name appeared on a property posting for a purchase sometime in the last month in Grand Junction, Colorado. Shaw didn’t even know where Grand Junction was and had to Google it.

The Alabama lead seemed more promising, and Shaw let Finch and the team know she was headed there the next day.

“If this doesn’t pan out, I’ll try the two Colorado hits this weekend. I hope we don’t have to start over from scratch Harold. It’s only been six weeks but I feel like I’m losing her bit by b….”

Shaw’s voice trailed off and she turned away to hide her face, the tears surprising and angering her. _Damn these, these.. feelings. Root, you’ve wrecked me forever. I need to find you, get you back and then kick your ass._

In seconds, she’d regained control of herself and turned back to Finch, who chose to ignore her obvious discomfort for the brief show of emotion. He felt some empathy for the ex-assassin as he had just recently found his fiancee Grace after several months searching Europe for her. He knew how it felt to wonder if you would ever reconnect with someone so important to you.

“Ms. Shaw, with the Machine’s help, we’ll eventually find her. If, as you believe, she’s alive and just maintaining a low profile. If she’s gone back underground and decided to cover her tracks… well with her skills, it might not be so simple.”

“I realize that, Harold, and that’s why I’m in such a hurry. The longer I wait, the more chance there is that Root decides her new life could be more attractive than her old, and the more likely she goes ahead and does exactly what you said, head underground.”

….

_I think I could sit here forever, it only…._

Root looked out from her deck, morning coffee on the table next to her. She’d already gotten into the habit of spending at least thirty minutes each morning out here enjoying the view, the peace and the quiet. It centered her before she went out for the day’s activities.

She’d found plenty to fill her time, the serenity Walkabout had instilled seemed firmly entrenched within her. More and more, the emptiness faded toward a dull ache, and the Shaw-sized hole, while still there, shrunk to something manageable.

_I have an almost perfect life, Sam, it would be perfect except for…. I guess changing the marker at the cemetery was a Hail Mary that failed. Life has a way of going in directions we don’t expect and sometimes don’t want. But I’ve learned that we need to accept what is, not what we want if we’re to have any contentment in our life._

_But oh Sameen, I miss you._

Root stood and took her cup back into the kitchen. If she was going to get going with this new adventure she’d better get her ass in gear. The mountain bike hung on the back of the Cayenne’s trailer hitch awaiting its initial ride. Root had studied a few trails in the area and decided on one where she could go anywhere from five to twenty miles without getting too far from the SUV but also without going around in circles risking boredom.

She found during Walkabout that the physical activity gave her two things she needed- endorphins and a feeling of closeness. The endorphins were a pleasant surprise she discovered were more than just a “high”, they produced a glow felt long after the activity ended.

The closeness was unquestionably more psychological- the feeling that by doing something, anything that involved strenuous physical activity, Root felt a connection to Sam that she had not felt since that day in New York that she thought her world had ended.

It was another way of coping, of finding her way in a Shaw-less world that was less than what she wanted, but could be more than what she believed possible.

_One day at a time. Now let’s see what mountain biking brings to my table._

….

Shaw walked into the Mobile Airport for the return flight to New York, still reeling from the bizarre happenings of the last twenty-four hours. She landed yesterday afternoon, slightly optimistic that her search might come to an end in this city just miles up Mobile Bay from the Gulf of Mexico.

The streets were crowded with students pouring in for Spring Break and the beaches were packed with scantily clad and mostly inebriated students and hangers-on. She found no hotel rooms in the area available, but did manage to rent a large van that she figured would allow her to crash in for the short time she would need to confirm or eliminate this Veronica Sinclair as the one she sought.

Veronica’s apartment was three miles from the shore and less than a mile and a half from a Walmart that seemed crowded 24/7, at least while the breakers were in town. Shaw parked her van as far from the store as possible. She was in the last row, three spots from a thirty foot motor home on the right and four spots from a blue painted school bus with the words “Lakeside Baptist Church” printed on each side.

There was moderate traffic around her spot, but she knew the van could stay there several hours before she had to move it or at least check in on it. She walked into the store, bought an air mattress, bedding, a pump, clothing and some snacks, and locked them in the rear of the van once she had changed clothes.

Sunglasses and a baseball cap covered much of her face and she wore sweats with a bulky t-shirt to cover her Glock. Twenty minutes later, she stood outside the address on the rental agreement that brought Shaw almost 1200 miles in search of her… well maybe her life.

_Shit! An abandoned store- gutted at least a year ago by fire, from what I can tell. Now what? Wait…. what if…_

Shaw headed back toward the Walmart, stopping at an Internet cafe she had passed on the way. The place was packed, not surprising since the city was packed with transient college students and millennia looking to score with said college students.

Shaw found one who looked like he had scraped change together to make the trip. Walking up to the twenty-something sitting at the station, she took out a $50.

“Hey sunshine, 50 bucks for you to give up your seat to me- I need the computer.”

The boy started, awakened from his revery and closed the site he had been perusing. _Amateur porn- what a loser. He could probably be making it down here if he had any game._ He looked suspiciously at Shaw, then at the bill in her hand.

“It’s real, and it’s yours if you will give me your seat, I’ll even throw in another $5 to get you coffee at the next place- or here if you want to wait to get back on.”

The boy made up his mind, snatched the bills from Shaw’s hand and stood. Nodding, she took his seat and logged on. Fifteen minutes later, she had a printout of the addressed she wanted to visit. She didn’t use the Machine because she didn’t know exactly how to ask it to interpret what a person trying to hide would do who was trying to cover their tracks.

She searched and found three addresses that could be simply transposition errors, or could be from someone taking extra care to hide from unwanted intrusions. The first yielded no results, but when Shaw walked around the second complex, she had a faint hope that maybe, this was the one.

The building was a nondescript two story with 24 units. It had been thrown up years ago surrounding a small court yard so each lower unit had a patio and each upper a porch. Four units square each a one or two bedroom unit. There was a small parking lot adjoining the structure and the units could be accessed from the inside court yard.

The four corner units on the second floor were the cheaper ones- their porch restricted by the stairs in each corner. Similar units on the main floor appeared to be slightly more pricey due to the patio having both covered and uncovered space for enjoying the weather.

Central to the courtyard was a mail station with a phone to contact the tenants. Shaw casually walked into the court yard and looked over the mailboxes.

Jackpot!

Apartment 203 listed one name, handwritten. _Sinclair._

Shaw returned to the parking area and stationed herself where she could observe both the vehicle and foot traffic in and out of the complex. Two hours passed, then a white Dodge Caravan arrived, and unloaded a tall woman with her head covered by a scarf. She came around to the driver’s side, handed the driver a bill and headed toward the court yard.

Shaw left her position behind an older model Ford Escape and followed discreetly. The woman shuffled along, appearing to be slowed by age and a possible back injury causing her to use a cane to aide her. As she approached the mailboxes, she opened the one Shaw previously identified as Veronica Sinclair’s.

Shaw watched as the woman picked up two letters, then headed up the stairs toward 203. As she reached the top step, Shaw raced up and intercepted her before she could move through her door.

‘Excuse me, are you Veronica Sinclair?”

The woman started, then tried to get through the door and close it. Shaw was too quick for her, however, and wedged her foot in the door, then forced her way inside. _Something’s wrong, Root wouldn’t struggle and act like she was panicking._

Shaw grabbed the woman by the shoulders. She looked at the face and knew- _wrong person_.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Sinclair, I’m with the FBI, I’m investigating a disappearance and was sent to interview you. Here, here’s my ID.”

Shaw produced her credentials, which of course, the Machine had provided. The woman’s fear seemed to ratchet up.

“They said you might come, might identify yourself as an agent, but then you’d kill me. That’s why I had to stay in this shit hole rather than somewhere nicer. So I could be protected. Please don’t kill me, I hardly know anything that could hurt them.

“Please, I’m begging you, please don’t kill me.”

Shaw went from disappointment to anger to confusion in seconds.

“I’m not going to hurt you Ms. Sinclair, why would you think I would?”

“When the Marshals set me up here, they warned me to keep a low profile until the investigation was finished. That’s another seven or eight months.”

“Marshals, what are you talking about?”

“I’m in witness protection, and there’s an undercover investigation going on in the federal government. Some parts of it are looking for me and the Marshals said I’d be safe here as long as I didn’t cause any trouble or do anything that might bring attention to me. They tried to kill me before I came here. Shot me in the hip. It’s why I need a cane.”

Shaw shook her head. _How the hell did this happen?_ She pulled out her phone and called Finch.

“Harold, Alabama’s a dead end. You wouldn’t believe the cluster I managed to dig up. I need you to get some info on a….hang on a minute.”

Shaw looked at the woman, making a decision.

“Are you going to have to testify?”

The woman shook her head.

“Would you like to disappear so no one, not even US Marshals can find you. You can live comfortably without fear of exposure. I can help you, I feel I owe you since I may have inadvertently blown your cover.”

The woman looked at Shaw, confusion, distrust and terror fighting for control. Shaw decided to give her a little time.

“Finch, let me call you back.”

Shaw ended the call, then gently reached for the woman’s hand.

“Look, miss, I’m sorry you got mixed up in this, sorry you’ve been shot. I actually know a little how you feel since I am still on a government agency’s hit list.”

The woman’s eyes widened. Shaw continued, trying to calm her down.

"I'm part of an organization that can help you disappear and stay out of any danger. We've done it before and we can do it for you. All I need is for you to trust me enough to tell me your story.”

The woman looked at Shaw for a long, long moment. Then she smiled faintly and shook her head.

“Might as well, trust somebody. My real name is Elise Morgan. I worked for….”

Two hours later, Shaw called Harold back and, after a short discussion made arrangements for Elise Morgan to really disappear. After putting her on a plane to La Guardia, where Reese would meet her with everything she needed, Shaw returned the van she had rented and headed back to the airport.

_Looks like it’s Colorado or bust._

….

Root’s morning ride was a whole new experience. She discovered there were still a lot of muscles she didn’t even knew she had that would scream in agony if tested beyond their capabilities. She discovered helmet hair wasn’t her best look. She discovered bicycle seats could be uncomfortable if you weren’t used to them.

And she discovered that riding a mountain bike in the mountains was an experience almost as exhilarating as snorkeling off the Great Barrier Reef. Her physical discomfort owed much to the fact that the experience was so much fun, Root lost track of time and distance. When she finally realized she was tiring, she looked at her iPhone app and saw she had ridden almost 30 miles in a little less than three hours.

She ached all over by the time she got back to the house, crawled into bed and slept for two hours. She was awakened by the ring tone belonging to Michele (Let’s Get It On- Marvin Gaye).

“Hey.”

“Are we still on for tonight?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost four, what have you been up to?”

Root recounted her bike adventure, and mentioned the aching muscles. Michele listened quietly then when Root had finished.

“Did I ever tell you I studied massage therapy?”

“If that’s an invitation, I accept.”

“How about I bring Chinese and we see if we can make you feel better.”

“You had me at massage therapy.”

Later that evening, as the two lay in Root’s bed, the tall hacker looked over at her blonde companion, Her smile was tinged with sadness as she stroked Michele’s hair. The blonde tilted her head and asked,

“Are you ever going to tell me about her?”

Root’s eyes briefly filled, then she began to speak.

“I used to do things that I’m not necessarily proud of. A few years ago I met a group of people who helped me change. One of them was a woman. She said she was incapable of feeling any emotions for anyone but I knew, and know, she felt something for me.

“She left with a man almost a year ago. I believed then, and I believe now that her feelings for me are what drove her to him. She was afraid of her feelings for me. I loved her and had she stuck around I know she would have realized that we were perfect for each other. But she didn't and here I am.

"The problem is, she's the love of my life. I've only loved two people in my life, one was murdered and Sameen ran away from me. I think of her constantly and am not sure I can ever heal. I'm not sure I want to heal. I've moved on to a certain extent but at the same time believe I will never completely get over her.

“I really like you- but you’re married and content and I don’t know if I would ever view what we’re doing as anything more than a physical thing. I know that’s not very romantic, but neither of us were interested in romance when we started. When it comes to my heart, well I think that will always belong to her.

“In fact, I think I always want it to belong to her. She was perfect just the way she was and I never wanted her to be anyone or anything but what she was. I told Ian I’ll die loving her and that is OK with me. So, if and when I seem a little sad or a little distant, it’s just part of what I am now and what I’ll always be.

“You can’t fix it, I don’t want you to try. The only one who could is no longer part of my life and I’m dealing with that as best as I can. You see, I never wanted to love anyone- I looked at people as random code, mostly bad.

“Then I met Sameen, and I lost my heart to her. Since she left, my heart has a hole in it. That hole can only be filled by someone who didn’t want what I had to offer. I have to live with that. The fact is that I’ve learned there are good things in life that can be enjoyed even if you are broken and that is something that I intend to build on.

“Please don’t feel bad or sorry for me. I’m content in the other parts of my life. The few good people I’ve met during the last few years, well I just want to enjoy them and help them enjoy whatever I can give them.”

Michele was crying openly. She reached for Root, wrapped her arm around her neck and kissed her tenderly.

“I could fall for you, you know. We could have something if we both wanted it.”

Root smiled wistfully.

“But I don’t want it, and neither do you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this chapter to be a little longer, but the conversation at the end forced me to stop. Was I right? Your comments are keeping me going. Thanks!


	7. Hello Old Friend

Shaw walked into the sunlight outside DIA. The car rental lot was less than 500 feet from the exit. Walking along to pick out a vehicle, she gazed at the mountains just a few miles west and thought about her current options.

_So if this is a fail, I’m back to square one. Root, I know you left me a trail, but if it doesn’t end soon I’m going to run out of ideas. I believe you’re alive, and I believe you sent me a message, but I’m not figuring it out. One thing for sure- if I find you, I’m going to do everything I can to see that I never lose you again._

She chose a Jeep Wrangler figuring she was in the mountain states and it wouldn’t hurt to have a vehicle that could pretty much go anywhere. Rolling out she headed for a dealership located in a western suburb of Denver. By the time she exited the freeway, she was sick of all the acknowledgements from other Wrangler drivers.

Pulling into the high end import store in Lakewood, she parked near the entrance and went inside. As a forty-something lady in a suit approached, Shaw reached in her pocket and pulled out ID.

“I’m from Secret Service. We investigate tax fraud as part of our mission. A few weeks ago, your dealership sold a Porsche Cayenne to a corporate entity, SGI Futures. It appears that this 401 C was formed as a money laundering enterprise out of El Paso with ties to organized crime. One of it’s officers, a Veronica Sinclair, was listed as a signer on the corporate contract and we are tracking her movements for the last few months.

“I will need to see the records for the purchase of the vehicle, and review any video footage you have of the purchase and delivery.”

The woman looked over her ID and walked away. Five minutes later, a man in his late 50’s to early 60’s approached Shaw.

Ms. Fredericks, is it?”

Shaw nodded.

“I’m Russell Lee, General Sales Manager. Please follow me.”

The man led Shaw down a hallway and into an office marked GSM. He went to the desk and sat down. Indicating a chair he smiled.

“Please sit, how can we help the Department of Treasury?”

Shaw repeated her story for Lee, then sat back.

“You have all the documentation, Ms. Fredericks, however our records are kept confidential. Normally we’d need a court order to turn them over.”

“Well, Mr. Lee, I really don’t have time nor inclination to get a Court Order. However, I could make a phone call to…” Shaw consulted her cell phone… “Matthew Broderick head of the local IRS office here. He might come over and shut you folks down for the next couple of weeks while all your tax records get a thorough screening. I don’t want to do that, but I don’t want to spend the next two days here when my target gets further and further away. Court won’t open until Monday and I would rather harass you than a Federal judge.”

Lee sat back in silence, then smiled.

“I said normally, Ms. Fredericks, but I don’t want to impede a federal investigation so let me see what I can do.”

Forty-five minutes later, Shaw left the dealership, less than enthused. _Is this just another dead end?_ The Cayenne had been purchased from that dealership, however delivery was done at a Holiday Inn nearby. Paid for by wire transfer, the vehicle was delivered to the hotels parking lot and the keys delivered with all paperwork to the front desk, in an envelope under the name of SGI Futures.

The dealership got its money, the papers were signed by fax and the delivery was done without the purchaser ever setting foot in the dealership. Shaw’s next best hope was to try the hotel. Fifteen minutes later she parked and walked in. Approaching the front desk, she produced the same ID and the same story.

The hotels manager proved much more cooperative than at the import store, and within 20 minutes Shaw was sitting in the security office with the day shift security officer. They were watching the video feeds of the parking areas around the hotel for the day in question.

“There’s the Cayenne. It looks like the instructions were given to assure the least possible camera coverage. We still may get a hit, someone had to come to the front desk and retrieve the envelope.”

The officer nodded, agreeing with Shaw’s assessment. The feed was fast forwarded to the point where the SUV left the lot, then reversed. A tall woman in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt exited the hotel and walked to the Porsche, threw an envelope in and entered.

“Let’s see the front desk footage for five minutes before the woman exits.”

The feed revealed a woman of indeterminate age approaching the desk clerk, handing her a slip of paper. She then appeared to produce ID and was handed the envelope. _She knows exactly where the cameras are so she keeps her head down at any angle I could ID her. My gut says it’s Root, but now what?_

Thanking the hotel manager, Shaw left and made one phone call. The dealership informed her that the car was given temporary tags with a 90 day from date of purchase expiration. _Another three weeks until she has to get permanent tags. She may as well have driven off the face of the earth. Looks like I get to see Grand Junction._

….

Root’s muscles were considerably better the next day, but she kept the ride under 20 miles. She arrived back at the house around 2:00 and set to making a huge salad for two. She set the salad in the fridge and went up to lie down, setting her alarm for 4:00. By 5:30 when Michele showed up, she was showered, dressed and setting the table.

“Hey babe, how was today’s ride? I’m ready, willing and able to give you another massage if necessary.”

“You just want to get your hands all over my body.”

Michele’s neck reddened as she smiled.

“You got problems with that?”

Root smirked.

“None at all, but actually I’m feeling pretty good today- I thought maybe we could eat then have a soak in the jacuzzi.”

Careful not to roll her eyes, Michele’s eyebrows shot up.

“Is that what they’re calling it?”

Root laughed out loud.

….

The drive to Grand Junction was slowed by one of Colorado’s famous blizzards. Out of nowhere, a 60 degree day could change in a matter of hours to a winter wonderland complete with several feet of snow. The snow started just outside of Georgetown and got steadily harder until Shaw had to pull over near Arapahoe Ski Basin.

Fortunately, the Best Western had a late cancellation and Shaw managed to claim the room. It was small yet clean and Shaw bought some food and headed up to ride out the storm. Fifteen hours and 22 inches of snow later, she dug the Wrangler out and headed back toward Grand Junction.

_This better not be a dead end, I’m running out of ideas. Shit Root, could you have made this any more difficult?_

Shaw’s reverie was interrupted by a thought that came unbidden- _and_ was unwelcome.

_What did she feel like when I left without a word? Do I even deserve to find her considering the way I left her? She would be totally justified if she spit in my face and slammed the door on me if and when I finally track her down. What the hell was I thinking?_

Hours later as she approached Grand Junction she realized she needed a shower, some food and a good night’s rest if she was going to face Root. And if it was another dead end?

_We’ll cross that bridge…._

….

Root and Michele spent the next morning in bed, alternating between rest and recreation. Around eleven, they decided to head down to the city for brunch. After brunch the two wandered around the city, enjoying their last day before Ben came back from the coast. Dinner followed by a short but enjoyable hour in Michele’s hot tub and Root headed back to her house.

As she headed out of town she passed the El Rancho, a motel that had more to offer than many of the hotels in Grand Junction. She remembered fondly an afternoon a few weeks earlier that Michele and her holed up there for several hours while a storm rolled through. She briefly noticed a figure climbing out of a Jeep Wrangler in the parking lot, but was passed before they fully exited and thought no more about it.

Forty five minutes later, Root arrived at her house and headed straight for bed.

Her last thoughts before drifting off were about Michele and their conversation about Sam. _Maybe it’s time to let it go, you could do worse than a successful and hot real estate broker. Your messages to Sameen may have been too subtle, or you could be searching for something that doesn’t exist._

As tears came once again to her eyes, Root murmured one last thing as sleep overtook her.

“Sam, I love you, but….”

….

Shaw tossed and turned well into the night. The few times she fell asleep, she awoke to similar dreams- Root pointing at her and screaming _No way Shaw, you left me for him- and now I’m supposed to just fall on my knees because you decided to honor me with your presence. Hit the road- I’m sooo over you!_

And _Who? Root, no she’s gone, she died in Maryland, in fact I’m pretty sure she committed suicide because she couldn’t deal with your abandoning her._

And _Hey Shaw, what do you want me to engrave on Root's headstone? How about "Here lies Root- died of a broken heart"?_

And the one that kept her up longest- _Sameen Shaw, oh yeah I remember her. She broke my heart before the love of my life came along and healed me. Sweetie, I love you (as Root turned to a woman in a wedding gown, features obscured by her veil)._

Shaw bolted upright from that one. _Sweetie- she called her sweetie... I thought I was..._

"OMG I have to get a grip."

Her face felt strange and she reached to touch her cheeks. _Wet? I'm crying? I never cry. What am I going to do if I can't find her? If I can't talk to her? If she won't listen to me? If...._

She finally fell back asleep around 4AM and of course slept way past her planned departure time. She barely woke in time to hop in the shower and check out. By the time she headed out it was after 11 and breakfast ended up two energy bars and coffee.

....

Root slept like a baby- waking at 7:30, eating a small meal and heading for the mountains- bike on its carrier. Her morning ride went a little long- 25 miles before she felt the now welcome and familiar weariness creeping into her muscles. She returned to the Porsche and placed her bike back on the rear hitch.

She spent a few extra moments enjoying the view, then walked back to the SUV. _Wow! It’s almost 1:00, I guess it’s true that time flies when you’re having fun. I can’t believe how much fun it is doing this physical stuff. No matter what happens with Sam, I will always remember how much she loved to work out. It still makes me feel closer to her to ride, walk swim… maybe I should try weights?_

….

Shaw walked back to the Jeep, disappointed. She managed to arrive at the address around noon but no one was home. There was no evidence that she was at the right place, no evidence that led her to believe this was any more than another dead end. Shaw was growing increasingly despondent- and it pissed her off.

Anger was always her default, but she had buried her anger for the majority of her time since she returned to the States. Now it was threatening a return and she had to remind herself that if there was someone to be angry with, it was still Shaw herself.

_Get a grip- this isn’t the end of the road, even if it’s another dead end. Go back to Grand Junction, ask around- you can at least find out if there’s someone staying here at the moment. The place seems to be well cared for._

Shaw could have easily picked the front door and gone in, but something kept her from what would have been second nature before she had gone to Europe. Whether guilt or a respect of privacy, she climbed back in the Wrangler, determined to return after she did some local recon.

Shaw headed down 550 on her way back to Grand Junction. As she was passing one of the side roads that led up into the hills, she noticed an SUV turning onto the road headed back the way she came. She almost missed it.

_Wait- wasn’t that a Porsche SUV? It was the same color as the one I was watching at the hotel- the one I thought I saw Root drive away in._

Shaw wrenched the wheel of the Wrangler, got the Jeep turned around and headed back up the mountain highway. Doubts immediately started to assail her.

_There was a mountain bike on the back of that SUV. Root wouldn’t be caught dead on a mountain bike. What if she’s got someone in there with her, someone athletic? She did always comment on how she liked my muscles- what if she found someone….. STOP._

Shaw shook her head and floored the Jeep, trying to catch the Porsche. She crested a hill just in time to see the Maroon Cayenne turn off on the access road she’d just come back from. Panic seized her chest briefly as she contemplated coming face to face with the object of weeks of searching. She dismissed it and willed her training to take over.

_Calm down Shaw- freaking out isn’t going to solve anything. Oh shit! What do I say to her? Oh shit, what do I do?_

Determined to face down her fears and her emotions, Shaw turned in and followed up the access road. She had hesitated enough that by the time she pulled onto the drive that approached the house, the Cayenne had already been parked. Shaw pulled up the drive and stopped about 25 feet short of the Porsche.

The driver’s door opened and a long leg covered by a gray legging exited the door, followed by another. The woman who slipped out of the driver’s seat and stared at the Jeep parked on her property sent a shiver through Shaw. She looked…. she looked….

_Magnificent- she looks magnificent. Oh God, can I do this?_

Root stared at the Jeep, sunglasses obscuring her reaction. As she tilted her head and shaded her eyes, Shaw realized she couldn’t see inside the Wrangler because of the sun’s glare. Shaw took a deep breath and opened the door.

As she slipped out of the Jeep, came around the driver’s door and into view, Root dropped her water bottle. Shaw hesitated and raised her hand in a brief, shy wave. Root’s mouth hung open.

“Shaw?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was another hard one to write, I'm concerned about remaining true to these two and having the whole thing be believable. I really wanted more drama, but I think we'll have some in the next chapter. Once again, please let me know what you're thinking- your comments fuel me.


	8. Go Where You Want To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little shorter, but I thought a necessary interlude. It was oh, so hard to write, and scary.

As she slipped out of the Jeep, came around the driver’s door and into view, Root dropped her water bottle. Shaw hesitated and raised her hand in a brief, shy wave. Root’s mouth hung open.

“Shaw?!”

Shaw stood rooted to the ground. Her mind was racing, but her body wouldn’t move.

_My God, she looks… she looks healthier. She looks…. what do I say? Should I beg her to forgive me? She looks…. amazing, she looks amazing.… Seeing her is like coming home. I have to tell her, have to explain, have to…._

“Sam, are you OK?”

Root had tentatively approached her, mind reeling. _She’s here! She’s here! She found me! She came looking for me! .... Now what?_

Root stopped, less than a foot separated the two women. She stared into Shaw’s face, barely able to restrain herself from hugging the woman who’d dominated so much of her thoughts since that day when…

_Now’s not the time…_

She realized something was wrong, Shaw’s jaw was trembling, almost like she was angry. Root realized much of her face was obscured by the sunglasses. Tentatively she raised her hand to Shaw’s face and gently removed the glasses.

“Oh my God, Sameen, you’re crying.”

Shaw blinked and shook her head. She wiped almost angrily at her eyes. Finally after thirty seconds more of uncomfortable silence, she found her voice.

“I wanted…. I needed….”

Shaw stopped, then took a deep breath and started again.

“Shit, Root, I thought I had a speech all figured out. I wanted to tell you… tell you how sorry I am that I fucked you over so badly. I left without talking to you, I left without any explanation and I shouldn’t have. You were my friend, you deserved better.”

_Dammit Shaw, that’s not what you meant, why, why can’t you just come out and say it?_

Root head snapped back like she'd been slapped. Tears came unbidden to her eyes. Then...

Root’s whole demeanor changed. She had grown since that day in the safe house. While she knew she was still in love with Shaw, always would be, she had grown beyond the insecure person who’s only way to express herself was constant flirting and innuendo. Her experiences had grown her to the point where she could confront her feelings and force Shaw to face what there was between them, even if doing so caused the ex-assassin to run away forever.

“If you drove out here to declare you and I are friends, Shaw, fine. Mission accomplished. I think you’re being gutless, but you know what? I finally figured out that I can’t care enough for both of us. I can’t make you see what I see when I look in your eyes. You have to quit hiding behind your many excuses that you came up with to protect yourself from ever having to take the risk.

“And it is a risk- but I guess not everyone has the courage to live- and love. I’ve spent months learning how to live, really live, even with this hole in me- the one you left. The love part I never had a problem with, I’ve loved you a long time. I’m no longer afraid to tell you, afraid you’ll run away and never come back.

“You ran away, whether _he_ had more attraction for you or whether you ran from _us_ , it really doesn’t matter. You ran- your default action when something makes you _feel_ is to run. So you’ve done your duty, Shaw, you apologized. Now you can go back to Tomas if you want. I’ll even give you my blessing.”

And she turned and walked away. Shaw stood speechless as Root walked up to the front door, let herself in and closed it without a backward glance. Shaw turned, mind blank and got back in the Jeep. She sat for several minutes in silence, then started the Wrangler and began to turn around.

_You can’t do this, Shaw- if you leave you’ll never come back- never come back here and never come back from what you’re doing. You have to fix this, or fail by at least being honest and open. She’s worth it, you knew that when they told you she was dead. That was the worst feeling you’ve ever had. She’s worth any risk, and she’s worth it even if you fail._

She threw the Jeep into park, hopped out and slammed the door. She stomped up the steps and pounded on the door to Root’s house with her fist. When there was no answer, she pounded again, this time with enough force to rattle the framework around it.

“Root, dammit, don’t make me break in here. I will. Open this door.”

She was about to turn and go back to get her lock picks, when she tried the door. It opened easily and she walked in, closing the door gently behind her.

“Root?”

No answer. Shaw walked tentatively through the house, noticing vaguely the tasteful decor. She walked through the entrance hall, past the two story living room with stone fireplace and into the kitchen. It’s open, airy brightness caused Shaw to smile, she could envision Root sitting here in the morning drinking coffee and coding on her laptop- which she noticed sat unopened on the breakfast bar.

Looking around, Shaw realized the size of the place. _It’s huge, way too big for one person. Oh shit- what if someone lives here with her?_

She approached the patio doors that led to a large deck and a gorgeous view of the mountains and valleys to the south. As she stood looking out, she noticed Root standing at the rail, off to the side almost out of sight. Her head was down and her body was shaking. Without thinking this time, Shaw slid the door open, walked out on the deck and began to try to repair the damage.

“You know, I’ve spent weeks trying to find you, sleepless nights trying to figure out the right thing to say to you when I did find you and quiet moments in the car dreaming about what could have been with you..”

Root spun around at the sound of Shaw’s voice. Tears streaked her cheeks but she held her head almost defiantly as she listened, and stayed at the far end of the deck. Shaw approached, slowly, deliberately- committed now that she knew this was it, this was her final chance to fix what _she’d_ done and she alone was responsible for.

“Then I come here and do what I’ve done so many times in the past- blow it. I keep sticking my foot in it every time I’m around you, then blame you for it and then finally run away from it. That ends now.

"I'm going to tell you why I left, why I came back and why I moved heaven and earth to find you. Then I'm going to tell you one more thing. If you still want me to leave after that, well then I'll go, but I'll go with a broken heart."

Root's face changed slightly, some of the despair fading. She opened her mouth but Shaw cut her off.

"No you don't. I had to put up with your constant flirting and banter without ever getting a word in now you're going to listen to me.

"I told myself I left with Tomas because I was bored and needed the adventure. I knew the first night it was a lie. I thought I could fill my life with enough excitement and, well… sex, that I could finally drive thoughts of you away. I was wrong. And I knew immediately. The first night in Barcelona....""

At this Shaw's voice trailed off. _I need for her to know this even if it hurts her or pisses her off._

“I know you don’t like Tomas, and you don’t swing that way, but you know he's hot. And he was hitting on all eight cylinders that night. Several hours later, while he slept, I got out of bed and stood on the balcony looking at the Mediterranean.

"I was sore, I was exhausted and all I could think of was how much I wished it was _you_ lying in that bed and _you_ who I would wake up to the next morning. But I kept trying, kept hoping I could find the right pleasure, the right adrenaline rush, the right anything that could get you out of my mind once and for all.

"Of course nothing, not even the €2.5 million that was my share of our endeavors made a difference. And that's why I came back. I came back to beg you to forgive me for.... for everything. For the way I treated you when we were in New York, for the way I left... for the way I never was willing to talk to you about us and what you were… and what you are in my life.

"There's no excuse for what I did to you, but you were right when you accused me of being afraid. Fear drove me away, fear drove me to deny what I knew deep down and fear caused me to screw up royally just a few minutes ago.

"I was, and still am afraid. I was afraid of what I'd find if and when I found you- had you moved on or had you found someone else? Then I was afraid you really were dead. Then I was afraid I couldn't find you. Then I was afraid that you'd reject me not for someone else but because of how horribly I'd treated you.

"I used to say I feared nothing. Then, when I came back and started looking for you it seemed like I feared everything. Now I realize the only way I can go on is to face these fears head on and deal with them _no matter what_!

“I decided I would either find you or find out what really happened to you if it was the last thing I ever did. I thought I ran because I couldn’t live with you around. As I searched, I began to realize I couldn’t live without you around- unless of course you didn’t want me around. I don’t want to tell you some of the thoughts I had when I considered you might have gotten yourself killed because of something I did.

“Bottom line, I finally get it, Root. What’s going on inside me, what’s causing me to run, then return and finally screw up when I’m around you is my reaction to the fact that….”

Shaw hesitated, not out of fear, but so she could look Root right in the eye. Root, who had been listening while looking anywhere but at the ex-assassin noticed, and finally brought her gaze to Sam’s face. surprised to see the tears once again staining her cheeks.

“….I _am_ in love with you, and I can’t stand the thought of another minute going by without you knowing it. I’m so sorry for everything- and this is the the last thing I have to say.

“I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I’ll get down on my knees and beg if that’s what you want. I’ll wait until you make up your mind whether to forgive me or not, I’ll even go back to New York and await your call if you want.

“Finally, I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. It _will_ break my heart, but I’ll do it. I will always know it was my fault, but I’ll at least be able to know that I finally admitted to you _and_ myself the truth.”

Shaw approached the hacker and reached for her hand. She stopped inches short of touching and looked deep into Root’s eyes.

“That’s what I should have said when I first got out of the Jeep. No excuses, just an apology- I’m sorry for everything I said and did to you. I’m also sorry for what I didn’t say before today to you. I don’t expect you to say anything now but I’m going back to Grand Junction. I’ll stay there for a few days, I’m at the El Rancho motel, if you need to get in touch.”

Shaw turned to go back inside. As she started walking toward the patio door, a hand gently touched her shoulder, and she heard Root’s voice.

“Don’t go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is- Shaw baring her soul. I was so scared writing this- how would it read? Is it realistic? I thought it felt OK but I'd like to know what you think. And sorry for ending it where I did. It will develop more in the next chapter. As always, comments drive my writing, please let me know if this works.


	9. Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse any errors, I rushed this due to a few comments indicating they wanted more- quickly. Let me know if you find anything that needs to be fixed.

They walked through the patio door and back into the kitchen. Shaw felt... well she felt something that was for sure. _This is strange- I have no idea what she is going to say but I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Damn, it feels... well it feels. Good, I think._

Root's head was spinning. The joy of having her love appear out of nowhere, then the devastation of hearing what she said followed by Sam's reappearance and declaration of _love for her?_ It was a little too much to process so Root stalled for time.

"Sameen, I really need you to just sit there for a few minutes while what you just told me sinks in. If you just went back now I'm pretty sure I'd convince myself this was just a dream. In any scenario I ever imagined about us meeting again, the _best_ one was that maybe you'd come back and say something like 'Hormones, can we forget it happened?'.

"This is something I never considered. And it's something we can't just go forward without... without.... shit, Sam... I’m speechless right now.”

Shaw sat down at the breakfast bar without comment. Part of her wanted to get past this and go forward as quickly as possible. But… that wasn’t what _should_ happen. As uncomfortable as this was going to be, it needed to be done.

_I opened Pandora’s box and now I need to see it through. Admitting it to her was hard, one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But to make anything work past this, if there is going to be a past this, will be even harder. But dammit, you know she’s worth it._

Sam looked over at Root, who was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed in front of her- a classic defensive position. Her face, still tear-streaked reflected more emotions than Shaw even cared to catalog. Anger was there, a hint of fear, and maybe just a little… _happiness_? Sameen needed to give her some time.

“Hey Root, could I get something to drink? Baring my soul makes me thirsty.”

Root smiled faintly, turned and opened the fridge. She turned back to Shaw and held out a bottle of Heineken. Taking her own, she retreated a few feet and the two drank in silence. Shaw looked around the large kitchen and massive open first floor and remembered her thoughts (fears?) as she walked through it less than a half hour ago.

_Well, here goes._

“So, Root, this place is huge. Do you, uh… do you live here alone?”

Shaw felt her neck tingle as the flush spread up and tinged her cheeks. Root tilted her head, confused. Then, as understanding blossomed in her mind, she smiled impishly.

“What are you asking, Sam?”

Shaw smiled, dropped her head and shook it slowly. A deep breath and her head came up. She stared right into Root’s eyes.

“I’m asking if there’s someone else, and if it’s serious?”

Root didn’t answer immediately. It wasn’t that she was deliberately keeping Shaw in suspense. She wanted her answer to be honest, accurate and unthreatening, so she was thinking it through completely before she answered. Finally, she smiled at Shaw, the adoration she felt for the ex-assassin showing through.

“I live alone, Sam. And yes, there is someone else. And it could have been serious, but something got in the middle and kept it from ever becoming serious. A certain ex-ISA agent that dominated almost every moment we spent together.”

Root told Shaw about Michele, leaving little out. She told her that it started as a purely physical thing, morphed into a friendship and was stopped consciously before it could develop into something serious.

“We talked about it Sam, but when we were honest we realized that neither one of us was willing to go that final step. Her because her marriage was still more important and me because… well quite frankly because I wasn’t ever going to quit loving you. Even though I thought I’d never see you again, I still loved you- and still love you.

“She’s not going to be happy about this, no matter what happens between you and I going forward. Because, no matter what the two of us decide, Michele and I are over starting now. At least the physical part. I can’t in good conscience sleep with her when all I’ll see is you. If our friendship survives, it would be surprising, but I’m not worrying about that now.

“And Sam, we do need to have discussions about the future. I’m not the same person you chased all around the country trying to find. I’ve changed and we have to discover if the two of us have a future. One thing for sure, I would never keep you in a relationship that you felt was suffocating you in any way, no matter what you said out there.”

Root pointed at the deck. She smiled wistfully at her love. Shaw was shaken by the realization that after all she’d done Root was not only willing to forgive, but worried about Shaw’s well-being before her own. Tears returned unbidden and Shaw let them leak out this time, not afraid nor ashamed of them.

“Sam, you’re crying again.”

Shaw smiled through the tears and stared at her … her… _oh Jeez, she’s everything. After the shit I put her through she’s still more concerned about me._

“Look, I don’t even know what to say. I came all this way uncertain about whether I’d find you and if I did, if you’d reject me because of the way I treated you. I’ve changed too, Root, and maybe you need to know how much.

“When I came back to New York, I didn’t realize the war was over. I found Finch and John at a new headquarters and they brought me up to speed. I told them I came back because I needed to talk to you, explain to you why I left and what I’d finally figured out. I’ll _never_ forget it when John told me you were dead.

“It was the _worst_ moment of my life. For the few minutes before I realized there was a chance that you’d faked your death, my life was over. I thought I didn’t feel things, emotions, well I sure as hell felt that. I was empty and I felt like all the life had been sucked out of me.

“And as I began to realize there might still be hope, I also realized a large part of the emptiness was that I hadn’t been honest with you about how I felt about you. If you had died without knowing that I loved you, I don’t know if I could have survived that. Now that I’ve finally been able to be honest, I can deal with the consequences of my actions.

“But know this, the only thing that could possibly be _suffocating_ is not having you next to me every day for the rest of my life. You’re my safe place Root and wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, that’s where I want to be and what I want to do- today, tomorrow and forever.”

Root set her beer on the counter, walked over to Shaw and wrapped her arm around her neck.  
Gently kissing her love, she whispered.

“Maybe we’ve talked enough.”

….

They lay together in Root’s bed hours later, enjoying the feeling of just being. Shaw turned to face Root and let her gaze travel admiringly down her body, lingering on the legs that seemed to go on forever. Finally, she brought her eyes back up and gazed into the hacker's eyes.

"This is the way it is supposed to be- I could stay here for the rest of the day- although I _am_ getting hungry." Shaw smiled ruefully. "Sorry, but there are things that will never change."

Root hopped out of the bed and went toward the bathroom. She returned almost immediately in a floor-length terrycloth robe and leaned down to kiss the former agent. Turning to leave the bedroom, she glanced back over her shoulder.

"I have a few filets in the freezer- let me start them defrosting and we can fire up the grill. I can bake potatoes in the oven or nuke 'em if you don't want to wait."

As she left the room Shaw noticed a flash of pink peeking out from the bottom of the robe.

"Root! Are you wearing bunny slippers?"

There was no answer, just the sound of Root snickering as she headed for the kitchen.

....

The pair spent the rest of the evening in and out of bed making up for lost time. They finally collapsed exhausted around midnight. The next morning Shaw awakened around 9:00 to an empty space where Root had gone to sleep. She headed for the kitchen which she also found deserted. She wandered over to the Keurig to make coffee. The note was stuck to the controls.

_Went for a short bike ride (have some soreness to work out;)). Breakfast in oven. Love you._

Shaw smiled to herself and went over to the oven. Her smile widened on seeing what was inside. 6 strips of bacon, 2 eggs scrambled and 3 croissants. _This will hold me to lunch, I think._

After breakfast she took a quick shower and sat down with another cup of coffee. _So now what? Do I look for a place near here? Does she want me to live here with her? We still have a lot to talk about._

Her reverie was interrupted by a knock at the front door. Shaw headed back to the bedroom, grabbed her Nano and silently went toward the door. She heard it open then close. A voice echoed through the house.

"Hey Veronica, something wrong with your car? What's with the rental?"

Shaw was standing at the breakfast bar when she appeared in the doorway. Her first thought was, _Wow, she's as tall as Root and I guess some would find her hot._ She looked over at the blonde and nodded.

"She's not here- bike ride."

The blonde stopped and stared at Shaw, a look of disdain beginning, then fading fast as she saw the gun in Shaw's hand. The blonde paled slightly then tried bravado.

"And who the hell are you?"

"Name's Shaw. Who are you?"

"I'm Michele, my girlfriend lives here."

Shaw's face darkened in anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, reunited but there is some stuff still on the horizon. Comments fuel my creativity. Please let me know what you all think. I love all of you who've stuck with me on this. Thanks.


	10. It Ain't Me Babe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, I wanted some more, but sometimes this almost writes itself.

"Name's Shaw. Who are you?"

"I'm Michele, my girlfriend lives here."

Shaw's face darkened in anger. She walked around the breakfast bar and approached the taller woman. Shaw gave her that look- emotionless and lethal, and Michele was totally unprepared for it. She swallowed hard processing the danger that lurked beneath the surface of the tiny firecracker.

A line of perspiration formed on Michele’s forehead. Shaw had stopped far enough away that Michele’s height wasn’t intimidating. Michele wanted to approach so it might be, but instead took a step back because… well because Shaw’s look was intimidating. Finally, she spoke.

“Shaw? How do you know Veronica?”

Shaw was silent for a eternally long thirty seconds.

“ _Root_ and I go back a long time. And I think you know, lady, both who I am and how I know her. I certainly know who you are and how you know Root.”

Michele’s eyes widened at Shaw’s aggression and as understanding washed over her. She was intimidated, but tried bravado.

“You’re _her_. Your the slut who left her for some fancy jewel thief. You’re the one who _almost_ destroyed her- and still might have if I hadn’t come along. Why are you even here? Haven’t you done enough damage?”

Shaw stood silently, trying to reign in her temper. _Root likes her, you can’t kill her_. After another uncomfortably long silence the ex-ISA agent sighed and, controlling her tone and her anger, answered.

“That’s quite an accusation coming from someone who met and _played_ with someone like Root and could only come up with a few ‘ground rules’ so there would be no threat to her marriage. Lady, you are in no position to judge and, quite frankly, you’re skating on thin ice. I don’t want to do anything to you, you meant something to _my girlfriend_ , but I think we’d better stop right now before something happens we’ll both regret.

“If you won’t leave and come back when Root’s here, I will. But I want to warn you- if I leave, you’re probably going to regret it.”

Michele stood frozen, almost defiantly. Shrugging, Shaw finished her coffee in one long drink, spun around pointedly heading back into the bedroom and returned with her jacket. Without a word she walked to the front door and left. Michele heard the sound of the Wrangler starting, then pulling out of the driveway.

The tall blonde looked around Veronica’s kitchen thinking about what just happened.

 _Shit_.

….

Root pulled into her driveway feeling better than she had in… well maybe forever. She had a pleasant ache that remained from both yesterday's activities and the morning's ride. Lost in her thoughts she didn't notice that Shaw's Jeep was gone at first. As she parked the Porsche it dawned on her.

_Where's Sam's car? Why is Michele's Escalade here?_

Root put the bike away, then headed inside. As she came through the front door, she called out,

"Anybody here?"

No answer. Root headed into the kitchen, looked out at the deck and saw no one. She peeked at her bedroom and stopped dead. There was a pile of clothes on the bed.

 _I don't think those are Sam's_.

She could hear the shower running and stood a few seconds before sticking her head in the bathroom. The tall blonde standing under the spray didn't appear to actually be taking a shower. Michele was standing, hair dry, looking out at Root with a smirk. Root felt alarm bells going off in her head.

Michele waved at her.

"Come on in, I'll wash your back."

"What are you doing here Michele? Where's Sam?"

"Who?"

Root shook her head.

"You'd better get dressed. We have to talk."

Root turned back to her bedroom and headed for the kitchen. As she left the bedroom, she noticed her laptop was closed on the table by the door, with a coffee cup on top of it. Root grabbed the cup to take it to the kitchen.

 _Heavy_. She peeked inside. She reached inside and pulled out a small flip phone.

_Looks like a burner._

She opened it up and glanced at the screen. Smiling sadly she closed it, went into the kitchen and set the cup in the sink and the phone on the counter. She sat at the breakfast bar and waited. Five minutes passed. Finally Michele came out of the bedroom and walked around to Root's side.

"What's up, babe? I thought you could use a shower then a massage."

"You didn't see a woman when you got here?"

Michele's eyes flashed briefly. Her neck reddened slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on Michele it's pretty simple- did you see a woman here when you got here? It's a yes or no question."

Michele dropped her head briefly- caught. She didn't speak for an uncomfortably long minute. Finally Root picked up the burner.

"Maybe this will help. 'Root- woman came here. Said you were her _girlfriend_. I left to prevent any violence. Call me.' Michele, I’d like to know what happened when you arrived.”

“She threatened me- I only told her she had no business showing up out of the blue after what she did to you. She left, she said if I wouldn’t leave and not come back until you were here, she would. Then she left.

“She had a gun! She was holding it when I came in the kitchen.”

Root smiled, then started laughing. Her laughter annoyed Michele and she stood, hands on hips frowning.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh Michele, she _threatened_ you? She was a _government assassin_ for years. She doesn’t threaten people. If she thought you were a threat to her or even to me, she would have just killed you.

“Believe it or not, she was trying to be nice. We talked about you last night, and I told her how important you were to me, even though you and I never went any further than the ground rules we agreed on the first time we slept together.

“I’m pretty sure she was as civil to you as she could be considering she may have thought you a rival. Although both of us never went to the point where that would have been true. I did want to talk to you about what happened yesterday, because you are important to me. I hope me ending our physical relationship won’t irreparably damage our friendship because I do value it.

“And I am ending our physical relationship. I’m sorry, but the love of my life just came back to me and as much as I value what you and I _had_ , you knew how I felt about her, how I feel about her. She’s everything to me- but that doesn’t mean you’re nothing to me.”

Michele’s face fell apart. Root’s sincerity was undeniable, but the hurt was real nonetheless. She looked at the hacker, tears forming and began to walk toward the door. Much of the hurt was pride, because she knew she had been the one that established their relationship as purely physical- but she also knew it had grown to much more than that.

She was close to being in love with Veronica, could have been, but they had both drawn back at the moment days ago when they could have deepened the relationship. The hurt she felt now, was it pride or heartbreak, she wasn’t sure. The only thing she was sure of was that it was real and it was painful. Michele pulled herself together to leave.

“I have to go. I don’t know if I’ll be back or if I ever want to see you again…. and Root? What kind of name is that?”

Root’s face darkened.

“Remember when I told you not to roll your eyes at me? Well don’t ever make fun of my name either. I was Root before I met you and the only reason I didn’t use it was I was trying to remain off the grid. But Root’s my name and I’d appreciate it if you’d use it with respect.”

Michele looked down and shook her head, when it came back up, tears were shining in her eyes. She straightened her shoulders and stared into the hacker’s eyes.

“Fine, goodbye Root.”

And she walked out the door.

Root, saddened, watched her leave wondering if there was anything she should or could do. As Michele’s Escalade vanished down the access road, Root pulled the burner back out and made the call. Shaw answered on the first ring.

“Hey, are you OK?”

“Sam, you didn’t have to go- in fact I wish you had stayed.”

“I might have done something to her Root- and I know you like her.”

“I did, and I do- but our friendship may not survive the journey to platonic. Can you come back? I really miss you. And on your way, bring enough food for several days. I want the two of us to stay here together by ourselves, for as long as it takes.”

“I only brought enough clothes for a day or two. And as long as what takes?”

“The next time one of us walks out that door without the other, I want to not worry about how long I have to go before I see you again. When you weren’t here and Michele was, I freaked a little. I got it back together immediately, but I had that moment of panic that you’d been scared off by her, by me… by feelings.

“Sorry, it didn’t take me long to realize what you’d said yesterday was all the commitment I will ever need. When I thought about it, I realized what probably had happened, and I wasn’t far off. I want you and I to stay here, together until we are comfortable. I learned this during Walkabout- you don’t always know what it is, but when it happens, then you know.

“Sorry if that sounds zen-like but it's what I think.

"And you're not going to need clothes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who've stuck around, we're almost done here. Comments are appreciated.


	11. Looks Like We Made It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this works, once again thanks for staying with me.

“Well Sam, what do you think?”

“I think I’m hungry and need to go for a run. Fourteen hours on a plane is a long, damn time.”

Root smiled at her love adoringly, then winked in the mirror at Ian, who had picked the two up at the airport. They had prepared for the flight by spending two days in LA adjusting their bodies to sleeping a little later so they’d be prepared for the six hour time difference between Grand Junction and the Australian East Coast.

Three months had passed since Shaw and Root had reunited. They spent the first ten days after Root’s confrontation with Michele holed up at Root’s place. Food was delivered daily and eventually they ordered more clothing for Shaw on Amazon.

By the end of the second week, Shaw had received her own mountain bike and the two spent three hours every morning on different trails in the area. And it was no longer Root’s place- it was _their_ place.

After the ten days in blessed solitude, the two began traveling to Grand Junction regularly for supplies. Three days went by before Root spotted Michele’s Escalade outside one of the restaurants in the city. The two shared a look before Shaw nodded and they pulled into the eatery’s parking lot. Root exited the Cayenne. Shaw smiled her encouragement.

“I’ll wait here. Good luck.”

Root entered the restaurant and looked around. Michele was at a booth toward the rear alone. Root headed over and stopped next to her, waiting to be observed. After a minute, Michele looked up, frowned and shook her head.

“Come to rub it in?”

“Michele, I came in here hoping to clear the air. I know you think I hurt you, but I never intended for that to happen. I was hoping that maybe our friendship was strong enough to overcome the hurt I know you’re feeling. I never lied to you, never promised anything I couldn’t deliver and never, _never_ , intended to hurt you.

“I was hoping we could still be friends, I always enjoyed being around you. You’re smart, outgoing and independent, a person to be reckoned with. People like you are rare, precious even. So I was hoping that maybe we could still be friends. I’ve missed you.”

Michele looked at Root skeptically.

“Where’s Shaw, Veron…. Root?”

“She’s out in the car waiting for me. She wished me luck because she knows how much you mean to me. While she’s not a person for relationships, she understands how I still feel about you and wants you and I to be friends because she knows it will make me happy.

“Of course she warned me that it would be hard to get past the initial pain, but that if we could, we could have an even stronger friendship than we might think possible. She’s really changed, Michele, so much so that I sometimes think, _who are you and what have you done with Sam_?

“But it’s a good change. I feel like all the qualities that attracted me to her in the first place are still there, but some of the edges have been polished off, making her more loving and more lovable each day. I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but I also know I’ve never been happier.

“The thing is, Shaw’s perceptive, and notices that I get a wistful look in my eyes when I talk about some of the things you and I did together. She told me I needed to talk to you and discover if there was any chance of us being friends- platonically.

“So we decided we’d try to find you and see if you can forgive the hurt I caused you and give a friendship a try. And here I am.”

Michele stared at Root, speechless. After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Michele shook her head and smiled.

“The way you describe her, I might fall for her… and I guess carrying a grudge that I’m mostly responsible for is really stupid. The problem for me is I don’t honestly know if I can be _just_ friends. No matter what Shaw thinks and you say, I know what we had was hot. I also know you know it was hot.”

Michele lapsed back into silence. Root held her tongue. Finally Michele’s smile returned.

“I have missed you too, you know. We had fun outside the bedroom as well as inside. I wouldn’t mind having some more fun… No promises, but I’ll try. Does this mean I’m going to have to be BFF’s with her too?”

Root laughed out loud and shook her head.

“She doesn’t do BFF’s. But you two will probably have to find a way to get along. I think as mature adults we can find some common ground for you two to have a civil relationship. At least I hope so.

“Do you think the three of us could have dinner tonight?”

Michele shook her head.

“Sorry but Ben and I have to be in Denver for one of his business meetings. Every so often he likes me to accompany him, especially when he feels he could use some ‘eye candy’. His words not mine.”

“His words are accurate Michele- you could be the poster girl for eye candy.”

“You say now.”

“I always did. You know, it’s too bad Ben doesn’t know our history, it would be fun to get to know him as well.”

Michele smirked and blushed.

“Ben’s known since the day I met you. Before we hooked up, when I first met you I would attack him every time I got back from spending time with you. Then, when we started sleeping together I’d come home exhausted and he called me out. But then he said, ‘This guy must be quite a stud.’ We didn’t talk about our little adventures, but this was different, and we both knew it.

“You should have seen his face when I told him you were a lady. Oh I could just see the fantasies playing in his mind. But you know, to his credit he never suggested anything weird, he just reminded me of our agreement- I could do anything as long as I didn’t embarrass him.

“I kept the details private, but when we had the blow up at your house when your friend came back, he of course noticed. So we talked about it. He’s been very considerate and loving since then and quite frankly, he’s helped me heal. So maybe the four of us should do dinner. It sure would be interesting.”

Root smiled.

“He sounds amazing, I’d like to meet him.”

So a relationship tentatively began. Awkward at times it developed slowly into a fairly normal type of couples friendship with dinner at each other’s houses and at local restaurants. Ben liked Root- not immediately because she had caused his wife some real pain, but he was won over by Michele’s obvious affection for her. If she’d moved on, he could as well.

Shaw, never one for social niceties, tended to stay in the background. She was civil but didn’t really engage with either while Root was the social one.

A change came about the day they all got into a discussion about protecting oneself in the wild. Shaw’s impassioned soliloquy regarding the importance of individuals being able to survive on their own resulted in a spirited, hour-long conversation. When both Ben and Michele admitted to having little experience with firearms, Shaw scoffed.

“All these years living out here and you can’t shoot? You guys just need someone to teach you your way around a gun. We can show you all you’ll ever need to be comfortable and feel safe when handling a gun and, more importantly out there where you may some day need one.”

Shaw waved at the exit of the restaurant. And that conversation seemed to be a turning point in the four’s relationship. They began shooting regularly at RMCC, a gun club in Grand Junction and spent time out in the mountains practicing as well. Root would deliberately let Shaw take the lead in any instruction, deferring to the ex ISA agent.

One night, after they returned from a session at the gun club, Shaw asked her about it.

“Root, you’re as good with weapons as I am, how come you never say anything when the four of us are out shooting?”

Root twirled her finger, encouraging Sam to turn around, then slid her hands around her love from behind and hugged her gently.

“You know Sam, I like it when you’re engaging with them- it shows me how far you’ve come as a social person.”

Shaw scrunched her face up. “Yuck.”

“It also turns me on.”

“Oh, OK then.”

….

The first time Root brought up Walkabout, Shaw shook her head.

“I’m glad you liked it, Root but there’s no way I’d ever do that.”

“Why Sam? Would you be scared?”

Shaw chased Root from the kitchen to the bedroom. Root, laughing, quickly retreated.

“Just kidding, just kidding. But you know Sameen, it really is an adventure. The Outback is one of the last frontiers left in the world. It’s dangerous and untamed… in fact it’s a lot like you. And the Great Barrier Reef- oh my Sam, I swear I never saw anything so beautiful in my life."

It only took Root a week to convince her and they made plans to head off on their great adventure. Ben and Michele agreed to check on the house periodically and when the day arrived, took them to Grand Junction Regional Airport for the private jet to LA. Shaw bitched about the cost, but Root was insistent.

“Sam, we damn near gave our lives for people who don’t even know how close they came to being slaves to Samaritan and its creators. We can enjoy some extra creature comforts now and again. Plus, we can afford it.”

There was little discomfort in LA either, as Root got them a penthouse suite at one of the more luxurious hotels not far from the airport. They did a couple of touristy things and shopped in Beverly Hills- to Shaw’s annoyance.

The flight was uneventful- business class has a way of making a fourteen hour flight seem less stressful than a morning commute in many cities. Their arrival in Brisbane was in the early morning of another gorgeous day down under. Ian was waiting outside the airport with Root’s Land Rover he’d rescued from storage.

He directed the baggage handlers to load their luggage, then placed the two in the back seat so he could chauffeur them to his place. When Shaw cracked wise about needing food and a run, Ian glanced at Root, then piped up.

“Well, there are several restaurants that serve an excellent breakfast in Brisbane, however my place would allow you two to kick back a bit. I can cook you know.”

Root smiled.

"You're a man of many talents Ian."

The Aussie just laughed.

“You say that now. But none were enough to get you to stay.”

Shaw, smiling looked at their driver.

“You know Root, he’s kind of hot, for an old guy- should I be jealous?”

Root gave her the _oh please_ … look. She was pleased and impressed that Shaw had appeared to have liked Ian almost from the jump. Sam did, but the reason wasn’t necessarily the Aussie’s engaging personality.

When Root and Shaw talked about the time after Shaw bailed and Samaritan fell, Sam realized the importance Ian played in turning Root’s despair around. She realized that without Ian, she might have never found Root because without Ian, Root may have never found herself. So she owed Ian- big time.

Plus, Root loved him, in her way and so that made him family.

Plus, he was easy to get along with.

_Geez Shaw, you’re getting soft in your old age._

“Root, let’s let our _driver_ be our chef for the morning.”

Ian glanced back at them again and winked.

“Toliver’s Fine Dining it is… we’ll be there in a few.”

….

The next morning, the two were still adjusting to the time switch. They arose a couple hours before sunrise, got out of bed an hour before sunrise and headed to Arlie Beach where Root had snorkeled a lifetime ago.

They sat less than eighteen inches apart in their camping chairs, coffee in the cup holder. As the eastern sky began to redden, the promise of a beautiful day painted from the horizon to the darkness toward the west, Root reached over and touched Shaw’s stomach, admiring the reminders of that morning’s activities.

Sam smiled, enjoying the touch of her love and glanced over. She looked at Root, tears once again coming to her eyes. There was just enough morning light for Root to notice.

“Sam, you’re crying. You OK?”

“Just remembering the time we were apart. I never thought this could happen. I figured I had fucked it up completely and the best I could do is tell you so you would know that I realized what I had thrown away.

“This… for this to happen, well it’s a miracle. I guess miracles can happen, we’re living proof.”

Root almost choked on her coffee as tears came to _her_ eyes. Shaw looked over and patted her on the back.

“You OK? You’re crying too.”

Root smiled, love in her eyes.

“I’m fine Sameen, I was just remembering. Have I told you today I love you?”

Shaw took her hand and brought it to her lips.

“You tell me every time I look into your eyes.”

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! I hope you enjoyed and I'd really like to know, mostly, if it rings true. Thanks to all who've read and especially to those who took time to comment. You're thoughts and encouragement kept me energized through out the entire process. I love you all.


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